Five Minutes to Midnight
by mezzogal
Summary: [Modern AU] Danae Pieterson was living a normal boring life until she meets a partially naked man on the train. Now, she is caught up in a rivalry that dates back to Arthurian times and threatens to cause the end of the world.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! Thanks for taking the time to read my story. I wrote this for Nanowrimo last year so it may be a bit slow at times. But keep going. It's worth it. :)**

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Thank you for your time. Here's your cheque; everything should be in order. It was nice working with you," the human resource officer recited blandly as she handed me my cheque. "Don't forget to hand in your security pass to the guard in the lobby as you leave."

I hate the human resource department. To someone like me, who has dealt with countless such officers, they are like the evil overlords of the corporate world, whose sole reason for existence is to ensure the rest of us drones keep the wheels of the corporate machine turning. And when cogs fail, HR officers like this highly polished girl in her Marc Jacobs business suit and Christian Louboutin high heels pick up the telephone and give the temp agency a quick ring, and people like me come running to pick up the slack.

I took the cheque from her, barely glancing at it – big corporations like this one always get it right. Even if they didn't, trying to squeeze more cash out of them was like trying to dry laundry outdoors in April – near impossible.

I tucked the cheque into my cavernous no-brand messenger bag; my security blanket, as it were, containing all I needed for the day – too many times the temp does not get assigned a desk to put her things and I just solved that problem my own way.

"A pleasure," I said, trying to keep the sarcasm in my voice to a minimum. I pulled out my name card from a special holder and held it out to her. "If you should need anyone to fill a position in future…" I began, the obvious end of that statement remaining unspoken.

"I'll ring the agency," the HR officer said, smiling sickeningly sweetly and ignoring my name card. "Good day."

Without another word, she turned on her heels and strode back into the depths of the department office, making it clear that this exit interview was over.

"And good riddance," I mumbled, slipping my name card into my coat pocket and leaving the office. People like these who think they are so high and mighty are just not worth my time, in my opinion. Down in the lobby, I obediently handed over my security pass and endured the indignity of standing by quietly while the guard conducted a search of my bag to ensure that I had not tried to make off with any confidential company documents.

Even the guard's most enthusiastic and thorough digging turned up nothing and I emerged into the cool October evening a free, but unemployed, woman. Two months of hell in that place as "office assistant" for a pittance. I was kept on my toes all day doing everything from typing reports, answering phone calls, making phone calls, brewing tea and watering the plants. I heard that their previous office assistant cracked one day, ran around the office in circles screaming then lay down on the floor and started making movements with her arms and legs as though making snow angels on the thick, expensive carpet. I'm glad I did not stay long enough to suffer the same fate she did. That episode was still recounted in awed hushed whispers around the office to this day.

The office crowd was starting to grow and the Tube was packed. If there is one good thing about the London Tube, it is a great equaliser. With few cars making it into the city, the minor executives who were pushing you around in the day are free game to be pushed around by you on the Tube after work. I had handed out my share of shoves to ex-colleagues who had made my life hell.

I got off at Monument Station, squeezing and shoving my way through the crowd to get to the doors before they shut. I then made my way up to street level and navigated down Cannon Street to the building where my agency was located. The problem with the company paying me directly was that it created a lot of extra paperwork for me. Such companies usually did not pay the agency its fee directly but included everything in the cheque and expected me to handle it. So I had to do it for them and hand over the cheque to the agency. Their accounting department would sort it out and hand over my share.

The people at the agency knew me well by now and I had little trouble in dealing with this situation. By the time everything was done and my hard-earned pay was in my hand, it was nearly 8pm. The sun had long set and the crowds, thankfully, long dispersed.

Stomach rumbling but having little desire to splurge now that I was officially unemployed again, I stepped into a nearby Pret-a-Manger for some dinner. Soup, a sandwich and a packet of crisps made up a meal. The shop was not too crowded but there were enough people so that I could hide at my corner table for a significantly long amount of time nursing a vanilla yoghurt smoothie and surfing the shop's free Internet on my HTC smartphone.

By 9pm however, a staff member came over and firmly but politely told me they were closing for the night and (unspoken, of course) it was time for me to get out. I complied and, the second I was out of the door, they flipped the "Open" sign to "Closed". I drew my coat tighter around me against the cold night air and made my way to the nearest Tube station to catch a train and go home.

By the time I had changed trains and got onto the Overground line, it was late and the train carriage was, for once in a rare while, empty except for me. I selected a seat at the far end of the carriage. As it was warm in the train, I took off my coat and draped it over the seat next to me. Settling in, I watched the lights of the passing buildings flash by and was lulled by the rhythmic clacking sound of the train passing over the tracks.

But, as the train pulled out of Dalston Kingsland Station, there was a terrific jerk and a bright unearthly light shone from the preceeding carriage. The sounds the train usually made also seemed to have been muffled and silenced.

"Oh god," I thought. "There's been an accident. I'm seeing the light, I'm going to die."

I got to my feet, trying to figure out what had happened but not daring to go to close to the forward carriage. They all say not to go towards the light, right? As I stared into the light, I was certain I was going to see my life flash before my eyes. But instead of old and best-forgotten childhood memories, the door between carriages was flung open and a man dashed in, dressed in nothing but a pair of black and brown checked boxer shorts.

My jaw dropped open. It is not everyday you get to see a sight like this half-naked man, especially not when said man had a dashingly handsome face, with complementing beard, melting brown eyes, luscious shoulder-length brown hair and a modelesque physique. And his abs – talk about a six pack; I had never seen anything like that in real life before.

The man ran to my end of the carriage and stood watching the other end as though waiting for something. Soon, another man (this one, sadly, fully clothed, taller, black-haired, blue-eyed and clean shaven) burst through the door, running hard as though being chased. The half-naked man caught his friend and stopped his momentum, pointed at the door and shouted urgently: "Shut it! Seal it off! Hurry!"

The second man extended his hand, palm out facing the door. There was a loud roaring and the entire carriage shook. I grabbed hold onto one of the grab bars to stop myself from losing balance and falling. Through the light, I thought I saw huge tentacles reaching out.

"Hurry up!" the man urged. His friend said a phrase in a commanding tone of voice, in a language I did not understand. There was a loud cracking sound and another huge jerk and then nothing – the light disappeared as if it had been sucked away and the train continued its journey as though nothing had happened.

"Well, that's that then. Goodoh Col," the half-naked man said, clapping his friend on the back. I must have looked like a fool, standing there with my mouth agape and eyes wide, wondering what the hell had just happened. It seemed like he noticed me then for the first time. "Close your mouth, love, you'll be catching flies," he said with a grin.

There was an odd but charming twinkle in his eye as he looked me over. His gaze fell on my coat, still draped over the seat. He picked it up and put it on. While it reached my mid-calf, it fell to just above his knee. "Hope you don't mind, love. Needs must," he said before opening the intercarriage door behind him. He flashed another debonair smile and disappeared through to the other carriage. His friend gave me a sheepish grin, shrugged and followed at his heels.

The announcement that the train had reached Hackney Central knocked me out of my stunned reverie. Had it been only five minutes since the train left the previous station? It felt like a much longer time.

"He's got my coat," I said aloud to myself, still feeling stunned and barely able to believe the strange events of the last two minutes that had culminated in this conclusion in my mind. "He's got my bloody coat."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It was three days after the incident on the train. I had not received any new job offers and was spending time at home at night catching up on cleaning and laundry and listening to music off my iPod. The Canadian Tenors were my current favourites.

I was in the kitchen at the back of my flat at the time, blending some fruit and ice for a smoothie. That, combined with the soaring voice of Clifton Murray – turned up loud so I could hear it over the whir of the blender – almost drowned out the sound of someone knocking at my front door.

I did not know how long my visitor had been knocking, but I heard it only because I had switched off the blender and there was a fortuitous break in the song at the same time. However, hearing the persistent knocking, I panicked a little, not knowing who might be calling at this time of night, and rushed out of the kitchen. My foot caught in my laundry basket, upsetting it and causing the toweringly large pile of laundry to tip over and me to lose my balance. Somehow, I managed to use the momentum to propel myself forward to land with a heavy thump against the door.

The sound must have alarmed my visitor for I heard him ask through the door: "You all right in there?"

Red-faced and embarrassed, I unlocked the door and opened it while replying: "I'm alright, thanks."

My humiliation was complete once I saw who it was standing outside. It was the man from the train who had been half-naked and commandeered my coat. This time, he was dressed in a nice leather jacket over a printed tshirt and dark blue jeans.

"Hello, love," he said, eyeing me with a curious but appreciative eye, like an art connoisseur considering a fine painting up for sale. At first, I wondered why he was looking at me like that and was a little offended. But that quickly turned to horror as I remembered that I was dressed only in a tattered purple camisole and old panties that were a hideous shade of green.

"Hi," I stuttered. "Give me a minute," I said and shut the door on him. In my head, I was screaming in utter mortification. I hurried to my upset laundry pile and pulled on a tshirt and a pair of shorts. I then hastily gathered my various articles of clothing and unceremoniously dumped them in the nearest cabinet.

The man knocked again. "Danae, are you decent yet, love?" he asked.

How does he know my name, I thought. Then, a more important question struck me; how does he know where I live? I wondered if I should make sure my kitchen knife was within easy reach just in case he turned out to be a murderer or criminal. He and his friend's behaviour on the train that day did not seem exactly normal to me.

"Danae…" he called again, a touch of impatience in his voice.

I lowered the volume on my iPod dock so we could at least hear ourselves think and opened the door again, but not as wide as before. "Hi again," I said. "Sorry about that."

"It's not a problem," he said with a small smile. "May I come in?"

"No," I quickly said, using the door as a shield to block most of my body, in case he whipped out a weapon. "Who are you and how did you know where I live?"

He reached inside his jacket, presumably, to an inner pocket. With two fingers, he drew out and held up my name card. Of course. I should have known.

"I found this in your coat pocket," he said. Looking down at it, he read: "Danae Pieterson. Phone number and agency number. It wasn't hard to find your address with this information. In any case, your agency was quite forthcoming." He put the name card back in his pocket and held out his hand. "Owen. Owen Sinclair."

I took his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you," I said automatically. I felt a strange tinge of regret at having to let go after the handshake. I folded my arms across my chest defensively. "So, what do you want?"

Owen held up a paper carrier bag that I had not noticed before. "I have something that belongs to you. I thought you might want it back." He held it out to me. I took it, looking inside as I did so. It was my coat, neatly folded and wrapped in a dry-cleaner's plastic cover. "Don't worry, I don't have any diseases and I had it cleaned," he assured.

"Thanks," I said grudgingly. So he returned the coat. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

"May I come in?" Owen asked again hopefully. I stood aside to let him in, praying that he would not comment on the messy state of the flat. He glanced round at my sitting room, his keen eyes seemed to be taking everything in.

"I was making a strawberry, kiwi and orange smoothie. Would you like some?" I offered as was only polite.

An odd look crossed his face. In all probability, he was considering if his stomach could handle that combination. Finally he replied: "No, water will be fine, thanks, love."

I went to the kitchen and searched for presentable mugs. I do not usually have visitors and so do not own "good china". I settled for two mugs with the least objectionable design – some corporate souvenirs from companies I had worked at. Having run out of boiled water and not really wanting to serve Owen boiling water right out of the kettle, I winced as I filled the mugs with tap water. Really classy. Hey, the authorities said it was clean enough to drink anyway, right?

Owen had settled himself down on my sofa when I returned. He took a glance at the contents of my mug as I handed him his. "Water for you too? Shame. I was hoping to see you drink that fruit concoction of yours," he commented.

"It's not really a drink for company," I said. The truth was, I was a little embarrassed to drink it in front of him, especially after he implied that he thought it was disgusting and had refused it.

Owen took a sip of the water, his dark brown eyes not leaving me for a second. His stare was making me a little uncomfortable.

"Is the water ok?" I asked to break the awkward silence. That, and because I was afraid he was allergic to the chlorine or something that was giving him a seizure – it would explain the fixed gaze.

"The water's great," he said. "Aren't you going to sit down?"

"Oh yeah, right." I realised that this was why he was staring. Why was I continually making a fool in of myself in front of this man? Suddenly, picking where to sit seemed like a very important and difficult choice. I did not want to sit too close – I barely knew the guy. But I did not want to sit too far away and seem cold and distant. I ended up sitting one seat diagonally away from him.

Since I did not have a coffee table, Owen put his mug on the floor by his foot before asking, "So, you work as a temp? Do you have any speciality area?"

"No," I answered. "I mean, yes, I'm a temp. No, I don't specialise. I find it's more interesting to be a Jack of all trades. You can work in more industries that way. Do more interesting things and meet people."

"The agency said you've been with them for quite some time already. Haven't you ever thought of getting a 'real job'?"

If anyone else were talking to me like this, I would have felt like I was being interviewed but for some reason, with Owen, it felt like chatting with a friend. I did not mind answering the questions he posed, even though I would have felt offended in other similar situations.

"I haven't really found anything I like, that's worth spending the rest of my life doing," I said. "Anyway, I see this as a real job – being a permanent temp."

Owen laughed. "You know that's an oxymoron, love," he pointed out.

"I'm not that smart. I don't know what that means, especially when I lack a dictionary to look it up," I admitted.

Thankfully, his grin did not get any less wide. "An oxymoron is a figure of speech that produces a self-contradictory effect. So, when you say you're a permanent temp, it's an oxymoron because 'permanent' and 'temp' contradict each other."

Light dawned. "Oh, I see," I said. "Now I wonder how many people I've said that to and looked like a fool in front of."

Owen sat back, relaxing and rested an arm on the back of the sofa. "I don't think you're a fool, love. In fact, I think you're rather cute."

"That's sweet of you," I said.

"It's true," he assured. He did sound sincere and I felt flattered. It had been a long time since a man had complimented me in any way. However, it was getting late and propriety called for him to leave. After all, he was still technically a stranger and, here in my apartment block, walls have ears and the neighbours would be gossiping about this like it was the most important news ever.

I stood up and said in my best "the boss is not in, please leave" voice: "Well, it's been very nice meeting you, Owen. And thank you for bringing my coat back. "

"I bet you thought you would never see it again," Owen commented. "It's a beautiful coat, by the way. You've got very good taste."

"Thank you. But, you know, it's getting a little late. I'm sure you have to get up early for work in the morning," I hinted.

"You want me to leave," Owen observed.

"You think?"

Owen still had not moved from his comfortable-looking position on the sofa. He flashed a roguish grin at me. "I like you, love. There's something appealing about you." He stood up. "Would you like a job?"

"Pardon?"

"Colin and I could do with another set of hands around the office," Owen said. "And seeing as you're a temp and between jobs, you'd be perfect for the job, Danae." I hesitated. It was more complicated that normal. In the short time Owen had appeared in my life, he made me feel attracted to him and I was reluctant to spoil any chances I might have with him by accepting him as my boss. Though a part of my mind reminded me that working in the same office all day with him would not hurt either. How many times have I seen office romance blossom? Owen appeared to sense my hesitation and pressed on. "You'll be paid a thousand a week for your troubles."

I was shocked. "Pounds?"

"No, roubles. Of course pounds, you silly girl," he teased.

£1,000 a week? I don't think I had ever seen that much money at one time before. This definitely might change things. At this point, I barely knew Owen and money was more important to me than him. "What kind of job?" I asked.

For the first time, Owen looked a little uncomfortable. "It's sort of a project we're working on. Sort of investigative… stuff," he said evasively. "Oh yeah, it's a project we're hoping to be done with by Dec 21, so, I'm sorry but it might not be a long-term job."

"I knew there was a catch somewhere," I joked. "Three months is alright with me. It's a tempting offer, Owen."

"And I hope you will take it."

"Who's Colin?"

"My friend. He was with me on the train the other night. You've seen him; tall, skinny, black-haired chap," Owen described. "So, what do you think? Will you take the job? Should I maybe check with your agency first?"

"No need to check with the agency," I told him. "I distribute those name cards for a reason. I do accept freelance assignments." He was still looking hopefully at me. "Sure, I'll take the job. When do you want me to start?"

"That is great!" Owen exclaimed. "How about the day after tomorrow? Wednesday?"

I considered the timing and nodded my agreement. Owen looked absolutely delighted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Wednesday morning dawned. I spent the whole of Tuesday both feeling excited and wondering if I had made the right choice. I realised that Owen had told me next to nothing about the job scope and what exactly the business they were running was. I made a mental note to ask Owen much more questions when I next saw him. One of my greatest fears was to get arrested for something I did not realise I did. The "I'm sorry, your honour, but I didn't know" argument never cut it in court, at least, not in the legal dramas I watched on TV.

I put on my dark blue Topshop pant suit and pale pink blouse. When in doubt, it was better to overdress than risk being underdressed – that was one of my mottos.

The train journey to Holloway was uneventful and full of the usual corporate executives on their way to work. I felt strangely nervous and excited. This was unusual for someone like me who has had many "first days on the job".

The office building looked decrepit and run-down. I stood outside the building and pulled out the piece of paper on which Owen had scribbled the address. It looked like I was in the right place. But I was doubtful, looking around at the other workers going into the neighbouring buildings, wondering if I was misreading his scrawl and any of those other buildings might be the right one instead. The passing workers barely even glanced at the building as they hurried by.

I took a deep breath and entered the building. There was a security guard sitting behind an old desk in the lobby. He did not even look up from his newspaper as I crossed the space to get to the lifts. Inside, the lift smelt of mould and dust and rattled a little as it ascended to the fifth floor. The hallway outside was similarly mouldy-smelling and lit in fluorescent lighting that was a little too bright, making everything look odd and a little surreal.

Owen's office was the second on the left and had a very non-descript brown front door. It was slightly bloated at the bottom as thought it had absorbed too much water in its time. There was no sign, nameplate or any other identifying feature on or around the door, save a very small regulation tag indicating the unit number on the top of the doorframe.

The uneasy feeling was growing inside me. I took a step closer to the door, hoping to hear some sounds that would reassure me that this was a proper office and not a lair for murderous criminals. To my mind, this building was perfect for housing a drug den or other illegal syndicate.

I stood outside probably for longer than I should, trying to make up my mind. Then, without any warning, the door opened and revealed Owen's grinning face.

"I thought it might be you, love," he said. "Do you stand in hallways and listen at closed doors often? It's a creepy habit, I must say."

He stood aside to let me in and closed the door behind me. Inside, the office smelled strangely citrusy. It comprised a main room where we were and presumably two adjoining rooms, reached through doors on the left and right. The door on the right was currently shut. The main office was very messy. I spotted two utilitarian desks with computer terminals sticking out like two islands in a sea of paper and miscellaneous junk.

Owen had gone to one desk and began dumping paper willy-nilly onto the floor and onto the other desk. A telephone appeared as he did so. I was amazed at the state of affairs. I clearly had not expected a scene like this.

"Ok, Danae, this is your desk," Owen announced after creating a man-sized cavity in the mess. "The computer may or may not be working; it's been a while since we turned this one on." He had a sheepish look on his face. "We had a printer and scanner that also functions as a photocopier and fax machine. It's… somewhere…" he ended lamely, gesturing vaguely about the room. "Feel free to use it if you come across it."

He waited for me to put my bag down at the desk and join him at the open doorway on the left. "This here's the pantry. There's a bathroom through there at the back," he pointed. The pantry comprised a simple Ikea dining table, a few chairs, small refrigerator, a microwave and a small stovetop where a kettle was on. It was probably good enough to boil water and heat up soup but nowhere near powerful enough to actually cook a full meal.

Turning round, he pointed to the closed door on the right. "That's Colin's and my room. It's kind of private so we'd prefer it if you didn't go in."

Having finished the official tour, he turned to me and asked: "So, what do you think?"

There were a million questions going through my mind at that point. I picked the one that had been nagging at me since the previous day. "I think… Actually, I have some questions. Just for the record, whatever it is you're doing, it's legal, right?"

Owen paused for a split second and I noticed his hesitation. Before I could comment on it though, he said: "To be honest, I don't know if what we're doing is strictly legal. But I can tell you that there's no law against it."

"I don't want to be involved in anything that breaks the law," I told him firmly.

"Don't worry, Danae. We're not asking you to break the law. Let's just say there's nothing in the law about this, and leave it at that."

"And what exactly is 'this'? What job is it you've hired me to do?"

Having moved away from the question of legality, Owen looked more relieved and happy. "I've told you we're working on a project. For the next few days, you'll just do research and general office work, to familiarise yourself. After that, well, it'll depend on where we feel we need you most," he explained.

"I'm on probation?" I clarified.

"Not exactly. But we need to know what you can and can't do and how we can use your skills best for the project," he said.

"And what is the project exactly?"

Owen's grin grew wider and his eyes twinkled, as though whatever they were working on, it excited him greatly and he had been waiting for this question since the start.

"Saving the world, love. We're trying to save the world."

That pronouncement would have been a lot more dramatic if a shrill whistle did not just fill the room and grow in volume and intensity with each passing second.

"End of the world alarm?" I quipped.

Owen rolled his eyes. We both knew full well what the sound was. "No, the kettle's on the boil," he informed me. I could not tell if he was annoyed at my joke or not.

"Right. I assume that'll be one of my 'general office work' duties – making the tea," I said sarcastically. The kettle grew more insistent.

"After that lame joke, the tea's on you today, love," Owen said, the grin back on his face. "Off you go then. We don't want the world to end in a fiery kettle explosion."

"Very funny," I informed him as I hurried into the pantry. The stovetop was not difficult to operate and I soon had the kettle placated. Owen had wandered over and was leaning against the doorframe, watching me. I pulled open drawers and cabinets, inspecting to see what I had to work with and discovered a drawer full of dusty mugs and cutlery, and a yellow teapot that looked like it had not been touched in a million years. I opened the lid and winced, quickly shutting it again so I did not have to look at it again. It looked like an independent eco-system had grown in there and was just a few evolutionary stages away from developing intelligent life.

I took the teapot into the bathroom to wash in the sink. There, I found two, relatively clean, mugs on a drying rack next to the sink, together with two sets of plates, saucers, spoons, forks and other dining-related paraphernalia. Dishwashing liquid, a sponge and stainless steel scouring pad were also, thankfully, present.

A second look at the interior of the teapot discouraged me greatly. I made a mental note to bring some rubber gloves, if I was really expected to do the washing up too.

"You doing alright in there, love?" Owen called.

"You fellows are disgusting," I called back. "Seriously. You reinforce every stereotype of the messy bachelor that exists."

I heard him chuckle. Having little desire to stick my hand into the teapot to scrub it, I just poured a lot of dishwashing liquid into it, carried it back outside and dumped in the newly boiled water. I then gave it a good shake to make the water lather up and to ensure that every corner of the pot got sterilised. Hopefully, most of the organisms in there would dissolve in the soak and I could pour out the worst of the mess afterwards.

Owen had disappeared from the doorway by then. I assumed I still owed him tea and refilled the kettle to boil again. I rinsed out the two mugs in the bathroom and scrubbed out one of the mugs in the drawer for myself.

In all this time, I still had not found any tea bags or tea leaves or anything to make drinks with. Since the only place I had not looked at yet was the refrigerator, I pulled open the door and was greeted by a blast of frigid air. The refrigerator was stocked with frozen microwaveable food and TV dinners. There was also fresher food like bread, eggs, milk, apples and juice. A box of tea bags and container of sugar were also there, placed next to, strangely enough, salt, pepper and other condiments.

I took out the tea bags and sugar and set them out by the mugs to wait for the kettle to boil. In the meantime, I went back outside to see what Owen was up to and if he had any actual work for me. There was a thick file on my table. I opened it to a random spot and glanced at it. There were astronomical diagrams of the galaxy and solar system on the page.

The door to the private room was open and, while I cannot say I was not tempted to peek inside, I resisted and attempted to clear a little bit more space at my desk as a distraction. The office was quiet and I could hear Owen's voice wafting out from the room. Though his actual words were unclear, he sounded hurried and, judging by the slight variations in volume, was moving around the room.

He was still on his mobile phone when he emerged soon after, wearing his leather jacket. Seeing me there, he put the other party on hold and, not breaking his pace, quickly said: "Danae, I've got to pop out for a bit. Could you hold the fort till I get back? If there's any trouble, just drop everything and run, then call me when you get somewhere safe."

I felt alarmed at that instruction. "What kind of trouble…" I tried to ask but he had already left. Looking around the office, I felt that sinister feeling again. This was definitely a very strange first morning at work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

When Owen was still not back by lunchtime, I let myself out and bought a sandwich to eat from a nearby shop. It was dry and not particularly appetising. I also popped by a hardware store and bought a small folding knife as a precaution. I did not usually carry a weapon around but Owen's cryptic warning spooked me. I had spent most of the morning tensely watching the door, worried a murderous maniac would come bursting in and hack me to pieces. It had taken me a very short while to realise that if an intruder really did come in, the office was a dead end and there was no escape route other than the front door.

I wandered around the area aimlessly as I ate my sandwich. I was giving it very serious thought as to whether I should go back to work or not. Owen might swear he was not involved in anything shady but there was still his partner Colin, whom I had not met yet. He was another matter altogether. If the two of them were mixed up in something that would compromise my safety, I wanted nothing to do with it. To hell with the £1,000 a week and the attractive guy thing. I think I would prefer to be poor and alone than dead.

However, a sense of responsibility prevailed. Even if I did not like it, until there was some concrete evidence to prove my fears, I could not, in good conscience, abandon my post. I knew a lot of temps who walked out of a job at lunchtime just because they felt like it but I was not one of those people. If I were to throw in the towel, I would not cut and run. I would at least do Owen the courtesy of telling him personally.

All this bravado going on inside my mind did not translate into much real courage. At the very least, the security guard in the lobby was still at his post – now watching a soap on a very small TV set on his desk, the tinny sound filling the lobby. I smiled at him as I passed and he nodded to acknowledge me.

The office was still empty when I got back. I did a check to make sure – with the exception of the private room on the right that I was not allowed to go into. I took a chair and propped it against the door handle, just to make it a little more difficult to open in case an intruder was lurking inside.

I realised that I could not spend the day worrying about whether or not I was going to be killed. Owen had said he wanted me to research and familiarise myself with the project, and had obviously dumped that huge file on my desk for a reason. I ensured my new knife was within reach, got a cup of tea, settled in to the office chair, opened the file and began to read.

The top sheet was a typewritten cover page bearing the title "Five minutes to midnight: An examination of the theories and prophecies surrounding December 21, 2012". The author's name was not given, neither was there any indication of when it was written. What started out as a short paper on the subject had ballooned into the monstrosity I currently held owing to the many sheaves of paper that had been stuffed and added to its pages.

I ploughed on. The original paper gave an overview of the many viewpoints on the Dec 21 doomsday ranging from the famous Mayan prophecy to Nostradamus, the I-Ching and other Internet conspiracy theories. The Internet conspiracists talked about how trends can be gleaned and predicted from an examination of websites. So far, the economic collapse, the rise and worsening of natural disasters, and the reign Pope Benedict XVI were identified as signs of the end times.

Whoever wrote the original paper was convinced the world was on the brink of collapse and was taking everything and the kitchen sink as a sign. In normal circumstances, I would have dismissed all of it as the ravings of a nutter.

The papers that were presumably Owen's additions focused on the Mayan prophecy and the cosmological implications linked to the prophecy and an analysis on the effects these cosmological events would have on the earth's climate and geological plate movements.

According to his notes, the Mayan concept of doomsday was the result of a controversial Western interpretation of the Mesoamerican Long Count calendar. The Long Count calendar was linear rather than cyclical and kept time in units of 20 – 20 days made a _uinal_, 18 _unials_ (360 days) made a _tun_, 20 _tuns_ made a _ka'tun_, and 20 _ka'tuns_ (144,000 days, or roughly 394 years) made a _b'ak'tun._

One _b'ak'tun_ was considered one world age – a strong tradition in Mayan literature. Several translations of the Mayan texts suggested that we were living in the fourth era, where each era ended after the 13th _b'ak'tun_. In terms of our time, the end of the fourth era would correspond to Dec 21, 2012. In the margin beside, someone had scribbled in a blue ball-point pen: "Can't there be a fifth era?"

A quote from an American archaeologist, Michael Coe, was highlighted in yellow: "There is a suggestion that Armageddon would overtake the degenerate peoples of the world and all creation on the final day of the 13th _b'ak'tun_. Thus, our present universe would be annihilated when the Great Cycle reaches completion."

This seemed to have answered the previous scribbled question for in the margin was the word "Oh".

The following pages contained some printed pictures of the Tortugero Monument and La Corona Hieroglyphic Stairway which purportedly bear rare references to the 13th _b'ak'tun_ and were linked to the god Bolon Yokte, the god of war and the underworld.

Having dealt with the Mayans, the research moved on to examine the New Age angle. The New Age belief was that the sun completes a full rotation through the 12 zodiac constellations every 25,800 years. The sun's equinox position in March (the point at which the sun is exactly halfway between the highest and lowest points in the sky) was currently in the Pisces constellation but was slowing moving into Aquarius.

This new Age of Aquarius was said to herald the fall of one civilisation (the era of religion and aristocracy) and the rise of a new one associated with free will, technology and humanity. But it warned that the fall and rise would not be a peaceful transition. Such massive change was not expected to happen without great resistance and upheaval. The speculation was that the world might even collapse into a third world war and then emerge into the new, enlightened age.

As the March equinox moved into Aquarius, the sun's December solstice position would also shift, causing the sun, the earth and the centre of the galaxy to come into perfect alignment on Dec 21, 2012. The problem was that at the centre of most spiral universes lies a supermassive black hole that slowly sucks in the star systems around it. One named Sagittarius A* is thought to be at the centre of the Milky Way. The alignment of this black hole with the sun and earth could trigger massive solar flares, bathing the earth in energy equal to that of 100 billion atom bombs.

So much energy hitting the earth would be devastating. The impact was thought to be enough to knock the earth off its rotational axis and cause a geomagnetic reversal or pole shift. The north and south magnetic poles would reverse and wreak havoc as all electronic equipment that depended on the constant polarity to function would fail. Such a phenomenon could throw humanity back to the Stone Age, breeding absolute, unthinkable chaos in the current wired era. Not to mention the catastrophes that such a change would cause the physical world – generating earthquakes, super-volcanoes, tsunamis, tornadoes and other disasters all over the earth. Millions would die and the rest would be living in a real life post-apocalyptic age.

I felt shaken after reading all of this. I was aware of the so-called "end of the world" on Dec 21 but I had not known what it entailed exactly, beyond the general chaos and havoc. Reading about it made me wonder how Owen could even think that it was possible to save the world. Between super-volcanoes and tsunamis on earth and supermassive black holes and solar flares in space, it seemed like an impossibly Herculean task. Just thinking about it made me want to crawl away and hide. Surely no man could stop all that from happening.

Afternoon had turned to evening by the time I finished reading and my tea had gone stone cold. Owen was still not back and I wondered what I should do if he did not return by the end of the official office hours. I went to the pantry and poured away my cold tea. I decided to make myself another cup to calm myself down and wait for an hour more before calling it a day.

Forty-five minutes and half a cup of tea later, I heard voices in the hallway and the office door was practically kicked open. Owen entered, his leather jacket looking scuffed and his face dirty as though he had crawled through greasy machinery. He was supporting another man, presumably his friend Colin, who was not in a much better state and was bleeding profusely from a head wound. He had a dazed look in his eyes and they seemed unable to focus on anything.

I sprang to my feet, automatically reaching for my mobile phone to call an ambulance. Owen saw and barked at me: "Danae, stay there. Don't move. Don't do anything."

I was stunned at his curtness. "I was going to call for an ambulance. He needs medical help," I pointed out.

"No. What he needs is peace and quiet, not paramedics trying to stick their noses in where they're not wanted," Owen said sternly. "Do not call anyone, do you hear me?"

I obeyed, putting my phone down on the desk. "Is there anything I can do to help? I worked in a doctor's office before. I know some first aid," I offered, seeing Owen scuttling between the office and their private room. I did not know what he was trying to do but as far as I could see, the only thing that could be done was call an actual medical professional – Colin's head wound seemed far too serious for amateurs to fix.

Owen paused then said in a gentler tone; "There's a first aid kit in one of the cabinets in the pantry. Bring it here."

I did as I was told, bringing the first aid kit and laying it open. I unpacked cotton swabs, iodine, antiseptic cream and bandages. Then I hurried back to the pantry to get the rest of the hot water from the kettle and a towel from the bathroom to clean the wound.

Owen allowed me to dampen the towel to help clean up the blood from Colin's head. But, the second I touched Colin, his eyes flew open and he glared at me with an unfathomable expression, all sign of his previous faint gone. Owen pushed me aside and behind him. From my new vantage point, Colin looked like a cornered and injured wild animal ready to strike.

"Danae, I think you better go, love," Owen told me apologetically. "I'll deal with this."

I did not need to be told twice. I packed up my things in record time and fled for my life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Since the previous chapter was essentially just padding my wordcount (nanowrimo story, remember?) and a non-chapter, here's another chapter for you. :)**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Owen called me later that night to apologise for his and Colin's behaviour. I tried to press him for details on what had happened but he was not forthcoming. The more I asked, the more vague he became. It reached the point that I wished he would just tell me a lie instead of all the half-answers and non-answers. However, he did tell me outright that what they did was potentially dangerous and said that he would understand if I did not want to return.

I was definitely tempted. It would have been so easy to cut and run, especially with him offering me an out. However my interest had been piqued. I knew the danger, but I also wanted to know what was going on. I knew it was a decision I would probably later regret but I assured Owen that I would be at work the next day. He sounded delighted.

Colin was in the office when I reported to work. He was writing something at the other desk and looking stuff up on a laptop propped up by stacks of paper when I entered. I felt nervous, unsure of how he would treat me today. He looked up and smiled at me. "Good morning, Danae," he greeted, standing up and striding forward, his hand extended. "We've never been introduced. I'm Colin."

I shook his hand, feeling as though I were approaching an unpredictable wild animal, ready to pull back at the first sign of danger. "It's nice to meet you," I said nervously.

He must have heard apprehension in my voice for he said: "I'm sorry about yesterday. You caught me by surprise and I wasn't myself. I'm not like that." I believed that to be true for today, his clear blue eyes revealed nothing but gentleness and honesty.

"That's alright," I assured him. "You were under the weather. We're all grumpy and snippy when we're unwell. Speaking of which, how's your head?" I asked because I was genuinely curious. I was sure he had suffered a massive head trauma the night before, but here he was today without even a bandage on. That was not right.

"As you can see, I am fine. Thanks for asking," Colin said. "It was just a flesh wound, but head injuries tend to bleed more. So I'm not surprised you thought I was very seriously hurt."

I felt sure he was hiding the truth but, with no real medical training to speak of, I had nothing to go on beyond gut feeling.

Owen was nowhere in sight but I thought I could hear the shower in the bathroom running. "So, what am I to do today?" I asked Colin.

"I'm glad you asked," Colin said. He pulled out a thick sheaf of handwritten papers and handed them to me. "Owen said he hired you as office assistant. Could you type this up, please?"

"Sure," I said. I settled in at my desk, unpacked and plugged in my laptop and began typing. The report was handwritten, dull and dealt with the investigation, research and conclusion on a corporate fraud case. I wondered what this report had to do with saving the world.

"Um… Colin," I asked. He looked up expectantly at my question. "What exactly is it you all do here?"

To my surprise, Colin chuckled and his whole face lit up when he did so, revealing another side to him. "Has Owen been filling your head with nonsense?" he asked. I told him what Owen had told me about their project to save the world and the file he had me read detailing the Dec 21 doomsday theories. It made him laugh harder, but I sensed that it was an ironic laugh this time, like a condemned man hearing an innocent who didn't know better asking questions about the death penalty.

"Saving the world isn't our primary work here," Colin corrected. "Our day job is investigations for clients, mainly small-time frauds, cheating spouses, background checks. We save the world on the side."

"Right," I concurred. Somehow I was starting to warm up to Colin. He seemed a much calmer and steadier person than the excitable, impulsive Owen and it suited my impression of his personality.

And speaking of the devil, Owen came out of the pantry barefoot, wearing dark jeans and a tshirt, and towelling his hair dry. "Morning, love" he called to me. "I see you've met Colin. And none of you are trying to kill each other. That's great," He looked extremely happy.

"You've been telling her nonsense again, Owen," Colin teased. "Don't scare her off so soon."

"Danae's not so easily spooked, are you, love?" Owen asked, winking at me conspiratorially.

"Actually, I've got work to do so, no time to be spooked right now," I told him, patting the stack of papers Colin gave me.

"The Wain Industries fraud case? Boring," Owen commented.

"Pays the bills," Colin rebutted. "Or would you rather go out and dumpster dive to keep body and soul together?"

Far from being chastised, Owen just grinned nonchalantly. I had the feeling this exchange between them was a frequent event. "Let me know when you're done," Owen instructed me. "I'll show you where to print, bind and send off the report. Col, do we have to give an oral report to Alvin or is the written report enough?" he asked Colin.

"He wants a personal oral report then he's got to pay more," Colin replied. "I doubt that will happen so just dropping it in the mail will do."

After a while, the office grew quiet save for my typing, Colin's pen scratching against paper and Owen's riffling through papers and occasional sighs as he analysed research and reports at the table in the pantry. Owen was right. This report I was typing up was really boring. It was a straightforward fraud case with no interesting characters or twists like the kind you see in movies or made headlines in the papers. This was just stupid, disgruntled ex-employee collaborating with a current employee to do insider trading and skim money from the books.

I am a fast typer and Colin had nice clear handwriting so I was done with the report by early afternoon. As instructed, I informed Owen. Colin came over and sped-read through the report to double check that I had not missed out anything important. When he finished, he gave Owen a nod. Owen handed me a USB flash drive and told me to save the report, then grab my purse and coat and follow him.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I pulled on my coat.

"Second floor," Owen said. "We've got a deal with them for printing, binding and copying."

"Which would explain why you don't care that your own printer and copier are missing," I teased.

"Hit the nail on the head, love," Owen agreed. He had his own leather jacket on and was heading out the door. "First the printers, then the post office, then lunch. Col, you joining us for any of that?"

"No, I'm good," Colin said. "You two go on."

Owen led me down to the second floor, which was much more pleasant than the fifth. The printer's office also looked like a real office, which made it a change from having to wade through piles of paper just to walk across the room.

We printed and bound two copies of the report – one for the client and one for our own files. Owen asked the printer to hang on to our copy for us until we returned after lunch as he did not want to make the trip upstairs again just as we were on the way out. We then headed for the post office round the corner, taking a walk through the sunshine-filled street.

"How's your handwriting?" Owen asked after we had stuffed and stamped the envelope.

"It's alright I suppose," I answered. Why?"

Owen handed me a marker pen from out of his pocket. "Then you get to address the envelope, love," he said and dictated a name and address. "Try not to make any mistakes."

"I won't. In school, I was always top of my class in dictation," I informed him. "I guess I was always meant to be the office girl," I ended lamely. I finished writing and he took the envelope to inspect and seal up after giving his approval. "You know, you can type the address and print it to stick on the envelope. Then you don't have to worry about unclear handwriting."

Owen handed the package to the mail clerk, having been satisfied as to its quality. As we left the post office, he said, "Yes, I know about the stickers. It's kind of hard to explain. We prefer the personal touch. We also had a problem with hacking once and a lot of information about our clients were stolen. So you see, we don't keep much on a digital record."

I did not really understand his reasoning but put it down to a combination of my own hunger and his eccentricities.

He introduced me to a nice café that sold simple but tasty meals. He tucked into a shepherd's pie while I had corn soup and an egg sandwich. The lunch crowd had gone by the time we arrived so we had the luxury of taking our time with our meals. We did not talk much over the meal except comments about passers-by and our food.

It was as we were walking back to the office after lunch that Owen attempted to make conversation. "Were you frightened yesterday?" he asked.

"A little," I admitted. I showed him the folding knife that I had bought and decided to keep on me as much as possible.

He nodded approvingly. "I don't usually hold with carrying weapons but you getting one was a wise move. I actually expected you to leave at lunchtime and not look back."

I snorted. "I'm not that kind of person," I said. "I committed to this job and I will do it as best I can. Anyway, I don't see anything especially dangerous going on, so there's no basis to my fears."

"You don't know the half of it, love," Owen said. "Well, ignorance is bliss, as they say. It'll probably get more dangerous the deeper you get into it."

"Are we talking about your 'save the world' project?" I asked. "Because, at this point, I really don't know how you can pull it off. It's an impossible situation. You can't fight against nature."

"We've got a plan."

"And are you planning on letting me into it anytime soon?"

"I hope so. I brought you in because I like your attitude. It's refreshing. And I foresee that we'll need another pair of hands and a new perspective. We've been working on this for a long time. We're getting a little stuck. A fresh set of eyes would definitely help."

"So why don't you tell me everything now? How can I help if I don't know what you're up to?" I felt frustrated. I did not like being left in the dark and expected to perform miracles without being given the full information.

"Let's say Col and I are reluctant to involve someone else in this case but are resigned to the fact that we have to and are trying to put it off as long as possible. We also haven't really agreed when or how exactly to bring you into the loop," Owen said.

I shook my head at the incredulous reasoning. "That makes no sense whatsoever," I informed him.

He laughed. "I never said it did. But that's the way it is."

When we reached our office building, Owen showed me where the mailroom was and where to pick up our mail. There were the usual bills, some letters Owen said were new client requests, and an envelope made of heavy paper. Owen opened this first and pulled out three equally ornate cards. He scanned them then handed one to me.

"Well, Ms Danae Pieterson. Looks like you've been cordially invited to a gala party celebrating the expansion of Kerise Pharmaceuticals tomorrow night at 8pm at the Holson Galleria. Cocktails from 7.30pm," he announced dramatically.

"Are you taking the mick?" I asked as I took the card from him. As it turned out out, it was exactly as he had said, only less dramatic. At the bottom was a signature informing me that I was being invited by someone named Alex James.

I peppered Owen with questions as we headed upstairs. "Who's Alex James? What is this Kerise Pharmaceuticals? How do they know I'm working for you? Why are they inviting me to this party? What does this all mean?"

"It means, my dear Danae, that you have gotten the attention of our adversary and are being drawn into the game sooner than we hoped," Owen said. He looked worried, an expression I had not seen on his face yet. "I hope to god you're ready."


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, I've been having a bad day so I thought I'd just indulge in some Merlin and post a short chapter. Thanks to those who have been reviewing so far. You guys are awesome!**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Back in the office, Owen and Colin were having a very heated argument. Owen had given Colin his invitation, which had the effect of inciting anger again in the latter, though he let his anger simmer under the surface. What really caused the explosion was when Owen informed him that I had been invited as well.

The two men adjourned into their private room and proceeded to have a shouting match. From what I could hear, their disagreement was as Owen had told me earlier – whether or not I should be brought into the loop. The name Alex James was also brought up several times, with Colin arguing more vehemently against my involvement and insisting that I be let go before it was too late every time.

Rather than sit and listen awkwardly to their arguing over me and my fate, I took out my laptop and typed "Alex James" into the Google search engine.

It was ridiculously easy to find him. There were tons of hits. I clicked the Wikipedia link – nothing wrong with wanting a general, easy to read overview; I was not looking for hard facts so I was willing to live with Wikipedia's infamous inaccuracies.

Alex James, 42, ran an international conglomerate called Eceline. It was set up in the 90s as a small-time shipping business and rapidly grew and expanded until it became the giant it was now. Alex James had his finger in practically every pie imaginable – from shipping and freight to retail, media, pharmaceuticals, education, manufacturing and real estate. A quote from a newspaper report profiling the company claimed that if you "dig deep enough… you'll find Eceline and James' names connected to practically all the companies on the FTSE 100 Index".

As for the man himself, there was extensive detail about his life and doings. Son of a stock broking father and public relations mother, he was born in Wales but his family moved to London when he was a boy. He studied at Westminster School then University of St Andrews where he graduated with a degree in Economics and the highest honours. He was just 23 when he began the business that would later become Ecceline.

His personal life was never a secret. His parents were both killed in a tragic car accident when he was 24. He had a string of alleged lovers – both men and women. No one was ever officially connected to him romantically, though with his boyish looks and head of curly dark hair, he had no lack of admirers. He also had a penchant for fine wines and rare art, and was a patron of several arts societies and charities.

He was described as a gentleman – charming, dashing and jovial – in terms of his manner and bearing, though it was noted that he was a very tough businessman who would plough ahead and not let anything stop him when he was determined. He was said to enjoy sports – football, golf and shooting – and hunted on occasion at a lodge he owned in the country. He owned several other properties, both for investment purposes and holiday homes, around Britain and the world.

In short, there was nothing I could see that would warrant such a strong reaction from both Colin and Owen. This Alex James seemed like nothing more than a wealthy, successful businessman. It did not explain why he would invite me to a party but I had helped organise plenty of parties where we would invite everybody and the gardener, just to have more warm bodies in the room. I assumed this was the case here.

The two men were still arguing, though they seemed to have reached some compromise, as their voices were no longer raised. I thought about interrupting them by knocking on the door but did not want to spark another round of confrontation between them and be directly drawn into it in the process. I stood outside their door, considering and re-considering, trying to hear if I could find some good point to interrupt when Owen pulled the door open.

"Are you sure you don't make it a habit of lurking behind closed doors, love?" Owen asked, a small smile on his face – a good sign, surely. Colin nudged Owen out of the way and marched right out of the office – definitely a bad sign. It looked like he had gotten the short end of the stick in their compromise.

"Well? What's the decision?" I asked. "And, by the way, just to let you know, I looked up Alex James on the Internet. I don't think there's anything sinister about him. So I'm going to attend the party, meet him, mix around and build contacts. I'm not asking you; I'm telling you."

Owen listened to all I had to say then led me to a chair and sat both of us down. "You know we've been working on this project for a long time and we've made enemies along the way. Alex James is one of them and the most cunning opponent we have ever encountered."

"All the more I think I should meet him," I said. "You've said it yourself, this is just a temporary job. I could learn a lot from working for him. I'm not going to jump ship. I just think it would be an incredible opportunity to meet such a successful businessman."

Owen shook his head. "You don't get it, Danae," he said. "This is not a corporate game we're playing. This goes way back. Alex James is ruthless and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. Murder isn't above him. He is a dangerous enemy to have. Col and I, we really would prefer if you did not attend the party. We don't know what he has planned and we don't want you to get hurt for something that you have no involvement in."

"Are you saying I'm forbidden to go? And you still can't tell me what your top secret project is about?"

"We haven't reached a conclusion on that yet. But as to the party, no, you're not forbidden. You're a grown woman, Danae, well capable of making your own decisions. You just need to know that there are risks before you make the decision. Your life could be in danger if you cross paths with this man. I can't guarantee your safety."

"Owen, why did you even hire me? All you give me are dire warnings. It's getting old. And Colin seems angry every time I see him," I complained.

"My reasons don't matter. The point is, you're here now and you've attracted Alex James' attention. That worries me."

"If he's really that good and your 'mortal enemy', him finding out about me was bound to happen sooner or later," I pointed out. "I know you're trying to be kind and to keep me safe but I think this is something I need to do and find out for myself. I don't think he'll try anything at a public party, so I'm safe at least for that night."

Owen did not look happy about this at all. But, true to their word, neither he nor Colin actively stopped me from attending the party, though Owen constantly dropped more dark hints about it being a dangerous enterprise and kept trying to talk me out of it. I spent most of the next day looking through reports the two men had compiled on Alex James over the years.

Apart from the corporate profiling that I had already seen on the Internet, the rest of it all sounded like conspiracy theories – the way they attempted to trace things such as the failed Copenhagen climate talks in 2009 back to his behind the scenes pulling of strings. He was also allegedly linked to the 2000 Millennium Bug scare and the 2009 Wall Street crash. These were supposedly part of his plot to weaken and distract world governments from a larger threat. He reportedly also had links to both above ground and underground networks in the Middle East and Asia.

Exactly what threat he posed was not clearly stated in any of the reports. When I asked Owen, all he would say was that Alex James was one of those men who was power hungry and had the tendency to have more sinister motives behind everything he did. Constant surveillance was needed to make sure he did not cross the line between normal ambition and megalomania. He would turn into Lex Luthor if he had the chance and destroy the world. The hint Owen dropped was that in trying to save the world, Alex James would be our adversary.

I was left wondering if I should look up at what point simple wariness crossed the threshold into serious paranoia.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Owen let me go home early to prepare for the party and said he would come over to pick me up later. I wore a V-neck dress that looked like a wraparound dress but had a pencil skirt. It was an office dress but I had a little trick, which was to artfully sprinkle glitter to make it sparkle and look like eveningwear. It was a pain to remove later but the dry-cleaner's bill came up to less than if I had to buy my own dress for evenings.

I was all ready when Owen knocked at my door at 7pm. He looked extremely handsome in his tuxedo. It was unfair how some people seemed born to look good in anything. He looked me over with an appreciative eye. "You look pretty," he complimented. "Ready to go, love?"

"Thanks. Yup, I'm ready," I said. "You look very smart yourself."

I locked up and followed him to the carpark where Colin, also dressed in a tux but looking very uncomfortable about it, was waiting in the back of a silver Audi. "I didn't know you guys had a car," I commented.

Owen went to the front passenger door and held it open for me to get in. "We do, on occasion. It's a rental." He shut the door behind me and slid into the driver's seat. The radio was tuned to a popular radio station that played teeny-bopper music. Owen tapped his fingers on the steering wheel along to the music occasionally.

Traffic was surprisingly light and we got to Holson Galleria with little trouble. It was a small independent art gallery located on the outskirts of Notting Hill. A valet, a kid who looked like he barely got his licence and was no doubt hired just for the occasion, took the car to be parked when we arrived. Owen offered me his arm and I let him escort me in. Colin followed behind.

Owen skilfully led me through the gallery, navigating the crowd expertly. He was clearly the social butterfly of the pair. Colin was silent and looked like he would rather be getting dental work done than be here.

The art pieces hanging in the gallery were mainly astronomy and science themed. They looked beautiful but few people seemed to be taking much interest in them. Most of the attendees we passed were engaged in their own conversations in their little groups, and munching on canapés and drinking champagne and wine.

We entered the function room, where the heart of the party was and approached a man whom I recognised from photographs as Alex James. He was talking animatedly with a group of men but excused himself when he saw us approach. In person, he looked older and smaller than I had expected, but also looked very confident and jovial.

"Ah, Owen, Colin, so glad you made it to my little gathering," he greeted cheerfully, shaking their hands warmly. "And Ms Pieterson, so good to meet you. May I say, you look lovely tonight."

He had taken my hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss. I felt confused and flustered, having never met anyone who did this before and not expecting it right at that moment. I just mumbled something and hoped that it was interpreted as an appropriate response.

"How could we turn down such a gracious invitation, Alex?" Owen said, his arm tightening around mine though his voice bore no trace of tension. "It is a marvellous party. How exactly are you linked to Kerise Pharmaceuticals? Have we missed one of your latest investments?"

"Oh Owen, if you have to ask then you've been lax in your job," Alex replied. "Your information is clearly outdated. Kerise has proven a worthy investment and I've helped them grow both their product line and profits for a while now."

"They were on the brink of total bankruptcy and collapse just one and a half years ago. Did they contact you or you them?" Colin asked.

"I don't deny that my investment team is always on the lookout for new projects and so-called hopeless cases. I'm lucky this is one gamble that paid off," Alex said.

"Even if Kerise collapsed, that's what? Pocket change to you?" Colin retorted.

"I forget to offer you my compliments, Colin. Your head has healed remarkably well and left no sign that it affected your brain, don't you think, Ms Pieterson?" Alex said.

"No thanks to you," Colin said tersely, his eyes narrowed and shooting daggers. I had forgotten about Colin's head injury over the excitement of the past few days and so had no time to wonder how it had recovered so fast. Alex looked smug. Clearly, Round One went to him.

Owen quickly jumped in to defuse the situation. "Well, I'm sure there are others waiting for a chance to grab your attention, Alex. We mustn't be selfish and hog all your time. Come, Danae."

"Enjoy the party, Ms Pieterson," Alex said as Owen firmly steered me away. "I'm sure we'll see more of each other very soon."

Owen whispered something furiously at Colin that ended with something that sounded suspiciously like "behave yourself". Colin melted into the crowd after that and I did not see him until the end of the evening. Meanwhile, Owen kept me close and we wandered through the gallery. Now and then, he would stop and chat with some business associate, and would introduce me. It actually felt quite nice to hang out with Owen. He was a gentleman through and through and knew how to draw people out and make them feel at ease around him.

Soon after, there was an announcement to gather in the main hall for speeches and a toast to the company on its special occasion. I did not pay close attention to the speeches; they always bored me. Alex James also spoke. He was a good speaker, with a commanding magnetic voice. His speech was the usual polite spiel about what a marvellous opportunity it had been to work with Kerise and how lucky he felt to have had the chance to be a part of their corporate developments.

Owen seemed to relax more as the evening progressed. It might have been due to the copious amounts of alcohol being served at the party. He did take several glasses of wine and champagne. He also stopped keeping me on such a tight leash and I actually found myself alone at one point, absorbed in a painting of Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night Over The Rhone. I had only ever seen it in pictures on the Internet.

"Beautiful, isn't it, Ms Pieterson?"

I was startled and turned to see Alex James standing behind me, also taking in the painting. He took a step forward as though to take a better look at the painting. But instead, he leaned in and whispered: "I thought your keeper would never leave. May I have a word with you in private, Ms Pieterson?"

"What is it about?" I asked.

"Let's say I have proposition for you," he answered. "Shall we?" Without waiting for my reply, he firmly led me away, through the crowd and into one of the back offices. It was quiet there – the party had not reached this part of the gallery.

Alex James shut the door behind him. "I hope you'll allow me to call you Danae. Such an exquisite and unusual name, is it not?"

I did not reply. All the warnings Owen had given me about this man came flooding back and I was on high alert. I glanced round to see if there were any escape routes or weapons available. Unfortunately for me, there were none.

"How well do you know Owen Sinclair and Colin Bradley?" he asked.

"I just met them about a week ago," I said.

"I assume they've told you about this childish rivalry we are supposedly engaged in?" he inquired. My blush was all the confirmation he needed. "They always were so melodramatic. Tell me, Danae, do you believe there is truly good and evil in this world?"

Again, he did not wait for me to answer but went on: "No, there is only perception. One man's meat is another man's poison, as the saying goes. This game we're playing, Danae, there are no good guys or bad guys. There are only sides. And now, as I'm sure you have been told, you have to choose one."

"How can I choose sides if I don't know what game you're playing?" I asked.

"They haven't told you?" he realised. "The fools. What were they thinking? Well, here it is, Danae: it's about power, control and to have the ultimate fate of the world resting in your hands. Look at this world – all the pain and destruction and evil. If you could wipe it all away, have a clean slate and start over, would you? Why wouldn't you grab that chance to make this world better?

"You have a choice. It's simple enough. Like life, it comes down to this: Which side do you think will win? Which side will give you a greater advantage?" he pressed. "This is my one-time offer to you. Leave them and work for me. You owe them nothing and I can give you much better terms for your efforts. At my side, you can have riches and power. You could have half the world if you so choose. On the other hand are two strange weird fellows. They would see everything remain as it is and let the world stagnate and not progress. They can offer you nothing and you will always be a nobody with them."

I will not deny that the passion in his voice shook me. What he said did make sense in a way. Assuming he was being metaphorical, being on the team with the highest odds of winning was not a crime. One of the world's most influential and powerful businessmen was offering me a job and a chance to change the world. I should have been grabbing at it with both hands. I had told Owen earlier that I would do as much. So why did I have the feeling it was all wrong? The feeling that maybe he was being literal about creating a clean slate of this world.

"It is tempting," I said. "But I cannot make this decision right now. You were appealing to my sense of morality and right and wrong as well. My loyalty is not always for sale to the highest bidder. I'll have to think on your offer, Mr James."

"Please, Danae, call me Alex," he said. "And while you're considering, think about this too – how well do you really know your colleagues? What do you think you'll find if you scratch the surface just a little?"

"Everyone has skeletons in their closets, Alex," I said.

"I know Owen Sinclair and Colin Bradley. I've sparred with them a very long time. I think you'll find there are more than just skeletons to find. A word of advice: Don't be so quick to trust strangers," he said.

This was all making me uncomfortable and I suddenly felt stifled in this close room. "I think this interview is over," I said, edging towards the door. He made no move to stop me. "Thank you for your offer. I will give everything you said very serious thought."

"And I look forward to hearing from you," he said.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to those who reviewed! It means a lot.

I'm a bit nervous about this chapter. Hopefully this chapter and the next (which will be posted sometime next week) will answer some questions. :) Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Owen drove me home after the party. It was a quiet car. Colin was in the backseat, seemingly less sullen than earlier. In fact, he looked like he might even have been grinning to himself out the window. Owen was tightly focused on the road. I suspected he was slightly tipsy, though he refused to admit it. I had not told either of them about my encounter with Alex James or his offer. It just was not the right time.

I spent most of the ride scrutinising the two men through the Audi's rear view mirror. Alex James was right – how much did I really know about the two of them?

The next morning, I was trying to have a lie-in but my mobile phone refused to stop ringing. The display revealed that the caller was my mate Sharon. We were mates from our school days but our contact these days was sporadic. After school, I took up temping and she went on to university then some high-flying job in the government, moving through departments so fast that I gave up trying to keep track. We still considered each other as a mate though.

I answered the phone, resigned to the fact that she would not stop ringing till I did so. "What is it?" I asked grumpily.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Sharon greeted in a bright and chipper voice. I winced. "Hey, Danny, listen, I'm working on this new project at the Home Office. I need information from you."

"What? The Home Office? Information?" I asked groggily, my tired mind not yet registering what she was asking. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."

"Don't worry, I'm not MI5. Whatever you did, I don't care," she said, giggling. "It's top secret so don't blab ok? I'm trusting you. I'm working on a database compiling details of everyone in Britain. It pulls in information from hospital records, schools, credit cards employee records and so on, wherever you put your name down, so it's easy if you need to look up somebody."

"Sounds a lot like spying to me. Are you sure it's legal? Since when does the government approve of pulling all that kind of sensitive info into one big database?" I asked. "What happened to privacy laws and all that?"

"Non-existent since September 2001 and you know it," Sharon replied. "Ok, well, that's supposed to be a secret so don't tell about that too. In the public's eyes, they've still got privacy. Anyway, the government commissioned this so it's got approval from high up. We're not telling the public until we work out the kinks in the system. Hence, the phone call. I need data to test," she explained.

"What kind of data?"

"Just names. I need to run them through the database, see if it works, what it turns up and whether it can really build a complete profile of them. But I can't test people I know personally cos then it wouldn't be fair cos I'd know where to look and what to look for. I need to test a whole variety of people, preferably strangers to me. I also can't just pull names off the phone book cos I need someone who knows the person to verify if the information was accurate. Don't worry, you're not the only person I'm asking. You just happen to be high up on my list."

"Wait, you want names from me and you're going to pull up their personal data and do, what, a background check on them?"

"Yup, that's it. All confidential, of course," she added.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts then jumped at the opportunity. "Ok, I'm in. I've got two names and I want to know what you find on them – Owen Sinclair and Colin Bradley."

"Owen Sinclair and Colin Bradley. Got it," she repeated, sounding like she was writing it down. "Who are they? Boyfriends?"

"Isn't that your job to find out, Shar? What's the fun in it if I tell you everything about them right now?" I asked. "And get off the phone. It's bloody 9am on a Saturday morning. I'm going back to sleep."

She laughed and hung up, promising to ring me when she finished gathering the information and building their profiles. But I did not go back to sleep. I lay in bed, running over the events of last night in my mind. I still had a chance to pull myself out of whatever plot was afoot. Both sides wanted to save the world from something – Alex James, from itself; Owen and Colin, from some kind of external threat, presumably Alex James. It was a noble aim. So the question was: Which side did I want to play on?

Sharon called me later that day and insisted I give her more information on Owen and Colin. I told her they were my bosses and gave them the name of the company along with my guesses of their ages and a basic description of what they looked like. She sounded irritated and muttered something about getting bad results before hanging up. Later that night, she rang again.

"Are you taking the mickey out of me?" she demanded angrily the instant I answered the phone. "Did you just make up two people and send me on a wild goose chase? It's not funny, Danae Pieterson."

I was taken aback. "What's the matter?" I asked, trying to stay it in such a way that would not spark off another explosion from her. I was unsuccessful.

"What's the matter? I'll tell you what's the matter. I just spent the whole day trying to track down faults in the system because it kept churning out information that could not possibly be linked to the two guys you had me look up," she ranted. "After hours of futile troubleshooting attempts, wasting my entire Saturday in the process, by the way, the only explanation left is that these two people never existed in the first place. Tell me it isn't so, Danny."

"I don't understand. How can they not have existed? I work for them. They've got an office and mail and rented a car yesterday, for god's sake. You can't do that without leaving some kind of trail in system," I said. "What exactly did you find?"

Sharon proceeded to tell me that there was just one Owen Sinclair on file in the Greater London area. The problem was, he had died of advanced stomach cancer at age 83 in a nursing home two years ago. He had no descendants that my Owen Sinclair could possibly have been. As to Colin Bradley, there were quite a few hits as it was a common name, but they all appeared to be too young or too old. None fit the description I had given her either. It was two dead ends, which meant either the database was faulty (but what were the odds of hitting upon the very two men who slipped through the net in one afternoon?) or the information I had supplied was wrong. I insisted I had not been wrong. The information I gave her was as accurate as I knew.

"There is only one possibility left that I can think of," Sharon concluded. "But I didn't want to bring it up until we had exhausted all other options."

"Go on," I prompted.

"There is the possibility that these two are using false identities and somehow finding some way of erasing their digital fingerprints and staying off the grid. I have no idea why and I'm not going to speculate any further because if I do, I'm obliged to report it as a threat to national security," she said. "But if that really is the case, as your friend and as someone working for the Home Office, I advise you to call the police. I can hook you up with the MI5, or even MI6. These people could be wanted terrorists who helped engineer the Sept 11 or the July 7 attacks for all we know."

I assured her that she was letting her imagination get the better of her then hung up. I had hoped her background check would help answer some questions. Unfortunately, all it did was raise more questions and reopen my suspicion of Owen and Colin being involved in criminal activity. I had asked Owen point blank on the first day if they were mixed up in anything illegal. He had denied it. It would seem, however, that he had lied to me. There was no other explanation for it. Strangely, rather than feeling frightened or angry, I just felt disappointed and betrayed.

Having spent the entire Sunday thinking out various confrontation scenarios, by Monday, I had built up enough courage to face down a bear. I went down to the office and found Owen and Colin eating toast and drinking tea in the pantry. I had a growing feeling that they lived in the office, which did nothing to alleviate my suspicions about their shady behaviour.

"Good morning, love. You're early today. Would you like some breakfast?" Owen greeted, a wide beam on his face. Colin nodded in acknowledgement and also managed a smile through his mouthful of toast.

They both looked so happy to see me that I began to feel guilty about what I had to do. I pulled up a chair and sat across from them. "There's some stuff I need to talk to you guys about," I started. Owen looked like he wanted to say something, make a joke in his usual way perhaps, but Colin put out a hand and stopped him. Colin was watching me seriously and motioned for me to continue.

I told them everything – Alex James cornering me at the party, his offer, his dark hints, Sharon's background check, and all my suspicions about their false identities and possible criminal or terrorist leanings.

"I want to trust you guys," I ended. "But I can't ignore the evidence. I don't know what to make of it. Who exactly are you guys and what are you working on? I want the truth and if I don't get answers today, I'm jumping ship and calling in the MI5. I feel like I'm getting in far over my head right now."

To my surprise, Colin was the one who spoke up. "Yes, Danae, you're right. There is more to us than meets the eye. If you'll let me, I'll tell you all now."

I could not believe what he had just said. "Really? You're going to tell me everything?"

Colin nodded. "Owen and I discussed it over the weekend. We suspected Alex had managed to get to you, despite our efforts." He paused and looked accusingly at Owen, who squirmed uncomfortably and looked away. It seemed he was being blamed for leaving me alone at the party and open to Alex's advances.

"This is all going to sound extremely incredible, but I ask that you hold judgement and hear me out," Colin warned. "It is true; Colin Bradley and Owen Sinclair are false identities. We have been using these names for some time now but we have to be careful to cover our tracks because, as you and your friend found out, it's easy to trace us and we don't really want to be tracked. It's just too problematic.

"Our true names are Merlin and Gwaine. We were both born in what is now Wales, near the end of the 5th century. When we were boys, the king who ruled the land was Uther Pendragon. When we grew up, we both served his son, Arthur."

This was too much for me. "This is ridiculous," I interrupted. "You're just taking the mickey out of me, aren't you? Very funny. Haha." But neither man laughed. Both of them looked deathly serious. "Oh my god. You mean it," I realised. "This is sick. This is just bloody sick." I stood up and backed away. At the back of my mind, I was calculating if I could make it if I ran for the door. I was afraid to be here with them any longer.

Owen grabbed my hand firmly before I could make a break for it. His grip was not painful and I could see he was trying not to hurt me, but he held on tight enough so that I could not leave. I tried to reach for my knife but Owen held it up. Evidently, he had picked my pocket somehow. "Danae, please calm down," he pleaded. "This is the absolute truth. I know it's hard to hear, love, but it's all true. Please. Just stay and listen."

A ring of sincerity in his voice made me halt my retreat. "King Arthur is a legend. A fairy story you tell kids. He's not real. Neither were the knights of the Round Table, the quest for the Holy Grail, or the great and powerful sorcerer Merlin," I pointed out. "There's no documented evidence or anything and this is one of the most important legends of the British Isles."

"It's been so long since those days that it's all turned into a story," Colin said sadly. "But it's true. We lived it. We were there, at Arthur's side when he united Albion and created the Round Table. And yes, I was the 'great and powerful' Merlin."

"Assuming that's all true (and I'm not saying I believe you), how the hell are you still alive?" I demanded. "Are you vampires or zombies or something? Do you sleep in magic Tupperware boxes and breathe in pure oxygen to preserve your eternal youth?"

Owen chuckled at that. "No, love. No vampires and definitely no Tupperware." He let go of my hand, judging correctly that since I was able to joke, I was in no danger of running away. "But there is magic involved. We are cursed men."

"When I was 38, I fell in love with a woman named Ninane," Colin explained. "Which sounds all well and good except that she was a witch seeking revenge for something I had done to her mistress. She tricked me, lured me away from Camelot and imprisoned me in an oak tree in France – today it's a forest called Broceliande. She put a curse on me, suspending the life processes in my body so that even while imprisoned and abandoned, I would not die but be doomed to endure the prison for eternity."

"How did you escape?" I asked.

"That's where I came in," Owen interjected. "Colin here had gone missing for years. After Arthur's death at Camlann, I kind of had a mid-life crisis and I decided to go looking for him. I tracked down the witch Ninane, figuring that she had something to do with it and killed her. I found the oak tree and hacked it to bits with Excalibur – yes, the magic sword Excalibur; it was real too.

"But what I didn't know was that Ninane's death did not mean her spells had ended. When I broke open the prison, the curse Colin was under rebounded and hit me. And so, here I am. Unchanged since that day."

"I used to think immortality would be great," Colin said. "Not having to fear death or injury, the world as my oyster. You know what happens when you're around Owen too long. He has this effect of boosting your enthusiasm to shameful levels. But after a while, you get tired; tired of the struggle, tired of seeing everything you care about wither and die, leaving you behind to carry on."

Hearing their story, I felt sorry for them. Call it stupidly following my gut instinct but I stayed there and looked them in the eye. I had not realised before but both of them had ancient eyes. If you looked hard enough, you saw all the centuries they had seen reflected in their eyes. There was no sign of a lie in either of their eyes. I believed them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for the reviews! I'm not sure if I replied to them all, but I really do appreciate them. So thank you! Hope you enjoy this new chapter. :)**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Believing Owen and Colin's story about being immortals was one thing. Getting used to the idea was another altogether. "What does this mean?" I asked. "How does it fit into the grander scheme of things? And Alex James? What's his role in all of this?"

Owen gave Colin a look. It was the kind of look you gave after finding out that the cat had learnt how to flush the toilet. If I was not so curious, I might have said something about condescension but I wanted answers.

"Alex is like us," Colin said. "When we first knew him, he was a druid named Mordred. Yes, the same one who killed Arthur at the battle of Camlann."

"But stories said Mordred was also killed at Camlann," I said. "And he was Arthur's illegitimate son."

"The stories are wrong," Colin said. "Or rather, the wrong information was passed down. Mordred was never related to Arthur. Arthur was too good to play around like that. And Mordred allowed us all to think he was dead. You have no idea of the shock we went through when we spotted him alive and well, what, 70 plus years after Camlann?"

"Strolling down the streets of Naples, cool as a cucumber," Owen reminisced. "He tried to become emperor, remember?"

"He didn't try. He did crown himself emperor of Rome. Under the name John of Conza," Colin said. "He attacked and captured Naples when Byzantine Emperor Heraclius was busy with the Persian war, just like he did when Arthur was away fighting the Saxons, the little traitor. His tactics gave him away. That was the first time we had to take him down."

"What happened?" I asked eagerly. It was like a history lesson, but knowing these two had been there and had been a part of the events made it come alive.

"We backed Eleutherius of Ravenna," Owen said. "He already had a grudge against John for coming in and stealing his kingdom so we just helped fan the flames of rebellion. His army recaptured Naples and killed John."

Something was not making sense again. "Hang on. You killed him? But I thought you said he's immortal," I asked.

"I also said he's a druid. And a very powerful one too," Colin explained. "He has in his possession an artefact called the Cup of Life. Christians refer to it as the Holy Grail. Arthur did send the knights out on a quest to find it but they ultimately failed. Drink from this Cup and you're snatched back from the jaws of death. That's probably what Mordred did to survive after Camlann.

"The Cup also has the power to grant immortality. There is a ritual to be performed, and then you place a single drop of blood in the cup to turn yourself immortal. You'll never die, as long as your blood remains in the Cup. That's what Alex has done to keep himself alive."

"Where's the Cup now?" I asked.

"Don't know," Colin admitted. "The last time I saw it was in Russia in 1916. He was playing the part of a noble in the Tsar's palace and had presented the Cup as a gift. The Tsar was displaying it as a trinket. Alex always liked to hide the Cup in plain sight."

"But, why would he want to keep himself immortal? Colin, you were saying that it's a tough existence," I said.

Colin was about to answer but Owen jumped in first. "Because Arthur killed the woman he loved," he explained grimly. "Mordred was a knight of Camelot and Arthur's protege. But the woman was found to be in league with Arthur's enemies to usurp the throne. Mordred begged Arthur to spare her life but she was unrepentant and Arthur had no choice. Mordred saw it as a betrayal of their friendship. After the execution, he turned on Arthur and joined his enemies.

"You know about the events in the run-up to the battle of Camlann. How Mordred led the attack on Camelot when Arthur was in France fighting off Saxons. Arthur discovered his treachery, stripped him of his title as 'knight of Camelot' and denounced him as an enemy of the kingdom. Camlann was the 'ultimate showdown' between the two. Neither won. He's been sore about it ever since."

"So that's it? It's just petty revenge?" I asked. It did not sound like something worth enduring centuries of immortal life for. Especially since his adversary was long dead.

"It's not petty revenge to him," Owen said. "Ok, it may have started out like that. I heard that he hunted down and killed the knights who fought against him at Camlann in the years after the battle. I, myself, faced off with him but I was already immortal then so it didn't matter. And I did not recognise him or else I would have fought harder to take him down. But now, it's the lust for power. It's become an obsession."

"For him, it all boils down to power," Colin added. "It's usually harmless; he'll get it the business or political way. Our job is to make sure he doesn't get too out of hand with his schemes."

"Which happens every so often," Owen interrupted. "Like right now. So we have to stop him before he goes too far with his new plan to take over the world."

By now, I was feeling light-headed. Alice must have felt this way when she tumbled down the rabbit hole. However, things were falling into place and making much more sense now. I was glad Owen and Colin finally decided to confide in me.

"So, what do you think, love?" Owen asked. "Still want out? Going to call the MI5 when our backs are turned and have us arrested as common criminals?"

I laughed. How could I walk away now just as things were beginning to get exciting? "There's nothing common about either of you. I think you're both barmy. But I'm in. I want to be able to tell my grandkids that I did my part to save the world."

"In that case, you can start by doing your job, office girl," Colin quipped. "We're out of milk. And while you're out, there's a report I need you to pick up." He gave me the address of a laboratory in Marylebone Road and told me to take no nonsense from the staff. "Off you go then."

Like a good girl, I did as I was told. Their story was so long that morning had already passed and afternoon was well underway. I decided to stop for a sandwich first. I had not realised how hungry I felt as I sat and listened to historical tales all morning.

The lab in Marylebone Road specialised in pharmacological research and analysis. It had a respectable exterior that suggested, rather than screamed, wealth – in keeping with the well-bred and genteel neighbourhood it was located in. The receptionist smiled at me in a friendly manner as I entered and brought me in to see the man I was told to look for. He was Dr Morgan Anthony. Framed degrees in pharmacy and psychopharmacology from King's College and Columbia University graced the walls of his office. He too greeted me pleasantly and bade me to have a seat.

When I told him Colin had sent me, Dr Morgan's face instantly turned to thunder. He grabbed a file that was placed strategically at the top of his out-tray – as though he was waiting impatiently for it to be out of his sight. He thrust it at me and told me to get out. I surprised as I was unceremoniously shown the door. Colin evidently had more than one enemy around town.

Returning to the office, I delivered the file to Colin who immediately opened it and eagerly scanned through the pages of charts and reports. By the time he was done, he looked like a kid on Christmas morning who had discovered his most coveted toy under the tree.

"Good news?" Owen asked. He was reading the newspaper and munching on a hard-boiled egg with his feet propped up on my desk.

"Pretty much," Colin said. "Now we know what Alex is up to with Kerise."

"You may know; Danae and I don't," Owen contradicted. "You've been secretive since the party. What have you been up to?"

Colin went on to explain. It turned out that during the party, he had fallen into conversation with a Kerise employee who had told him that the company was preparing to roll out a revolutionary new pill – call it a multivitamin for your mental health needs. It was not like the anti-depressants or anti-psychosis drugs that were currently on the market. Normal psychiatric medications are designed to exert an effect on the chemical makeup of the brain and nervous system. This new drug was developed to not only keep the brain's chemical levels in balance, it would also enhance it to actively prevent mental ailments in general from taking hold.

Those in the know were extremely excited about it and were sure this was going to be a money-spinner. Colin had probed further and, after copious amounts of alcohol, the employee had not only revealed the Alex James' R&D team was behind the miracle pill, but he also slipped Colin a sample of the drug. He said it was an open secret that some company employees tried out the drugs before they were available on the market and gave some to their family and friends – after getting the green light from the company's certification team that they were safe for human consumption, of course.

Colin had kept the pill and sent it to Dr Morgan for testing, searching for traces of a chemical formula he knew Alex James regularly used. The compound would be hidden behind other innocent chemicals and all but invisible if one did not know where to look. It would be easily missed by regular government testers. But Dr Morgan, under Colin's tutelage, had become an expert in finding it and was therefore their man whenever the need for chemical analysis arose, due to his easy access to a lab. Colin stopped short of explaining why his former student seemed to hate him.

"What does the formula do?" I asked.

"Mind control," Colin answered. "Very, very subtle mind control. The chemicals mixed up in that formula form a special compound that Alex had developed. When ingested, it spreads through the body like a virus, leaching into the cells and working its way up to the brain. The cells are turned into little antenna-like things that Alex can use to take control of the host body from a distance by manipulating the brain with magic."

"That's impossible!" I protested. "No one could be that good to create such a mind control drug that works remotely."

"Not really," Owen said, seeming to be tired of being left out of the conversation. "Remember LSD and the hippie, flower power era? That was a primitive version of this drug that he was testing. Then, Alex was feeling benevolent so it was all 'world peace' and 'make love, not war'. There were earlier trials. The earliest I recall was in the 1800s, when he introduced the drug in Haiti. That's how the story of the Haiti zombies came about."

"Haiti zombies?" I echoed.

"Yes," Owen explained. "The locals thought it was voodoo sorcery that brought corpses back to life, and that the voodoo priests had power to control the reanimated zombie. But in reality, it was a powerful drug that was creating a trance-like state like death, causing people to think that these were people come back from the dead. You have to remember, in rural Haiti, access to medical care was practically non-existent so it was quite common to wrongfully bury someone alive by accident."

"And this 'powerful drug' is Alex James' mind control drug?" I clarified.

"Yes, it was," Colin confirmed "Except that wasn't refined enough. Controlling the body wasn't good enough. People knew when someone around them was being possessed and always responded to put a stop to it – usually in a violent way. So he started focusing on the mind and brain instead. He tested it on people in central Africa quite recently, under the guise of offering disease vaccines. From 2003, if I'm not wrong. People didn't know what he was really up to but the effect was heartbreaking. Children between five and 15 years of age who had been given the drug started reacting oddly. Food would spark off seizures in which they would grow cold and start nodding very rapidly."

"And then die?" I asked, horrified.

"Over time, yes. They would die from accidents when they lose consciousness in the seizures, or malnourishment. They called it the nodding disease. It's struck over 3,000 children already in Uganda," Colin said sadly. "I think I may have developed a cure. The problem is I can't make it public because the actual research into the case has been classified. I'm not officially connected to it so I can't comment. It'll raise too many suspicions."

"I always said you should just leak it," Owen commented. "It'll do the world good and no one will care where it comes from, as long as it saves the children's lives."

"Well, now at least, we know he's closer to perfecting his drug and is trying to mass produce it, so we can neutralise it before it goes on the market," Colin said. "Give me a minute to think and I'll come up with a plan."

It took him nearly an hour before he announced his plan. We were to go to the Kerise manufacturing plant and infiltrate the operations. There we would split into three groups – one would destroy the batches of pills that had already been made (there was nothing we could do about pills that were leaked by the employees except hope the cases were isolated enough that no one asked questions); another would use Colin's antidote to neutralise the pills currently on the production line; and the third would hack into the company's records to change the chemical formula of the drug so that future batches would not contain the malevolent compound. We would put the plan in action within the week, after careful planning to find out the best time to carry out the sabotage.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Because it was a three-pronged approach, I had to step in to help. My job, given my extensive knowledge of the insides and workings of offices and my ability to adapt quickly to any office environment, was to masquerade as an office worker, get into the system and change the company's records.

At one point, I did admit to Owen that I was afraid. "Anything could go wrong," I said. "This is too much like the plot of a bad movie and it always goes wrong in those."

"You'll be fine. This is not the movies," he said. "I'll keep an eye on you and keep you safe. We both will," he added, looking up at Colin, who smiled and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. Perhaps they were used to this by now but this was my first time doing infiltration and I was still extremely nervous.

On the day planned, I pretended to be a temp reporting for work at Kerise's manufacturing plant. As expected, the person at security did not know who I was and said he was not informed of a new hire.

"I'm not a new hire. I'm a temp," I corrected. "Call up Will in HR. I'm supposed to report to him." There was likely no "Will" in this HR department but it was a common enough name so it did not arouse the suspicions of the guard. He probably did not know who worked in HR anyway. The night before, Colin had arranged a wiretap and managed to reroute the guard's call, anticipating that this would happen. Owen intercepted the call and assured the guard that I was a legitimate temp hire.

The guard issued me a visitor's security badge and let me in. The Kerise offices were large, as I expected in a factory this size. It was not hard to commandeer the desk of an absent employee. Most staff make the mistake of not logging out and just putting their computers in sleep mode. Thankfully, this chap was exactly like that and it was easy for me to get on to his accounts.

I knew by now how to look busy in an office. Shuffle papers, make typing sounds, and looking as if you are walking somewhere with important files and documents. No one questioned my presence in the office, except for one woman who was trying to be friendly. She introduced herself and asked me what I was doing. I told her I was just a temp helping out with data entry. The trick was to act like I belonged and was meant to be there and was too busy to socialise. She did not ask any more questions.

This employee whose computer I commandeered was, naturally, not high ranking enough to have access to the drug chemical formulas. However, when I worked with a technical support company, one of the technicians taught me how to remotely access a computer terminal that was linked to an intranet. Back then, it was just so we could relieve our boredom and see who was surfing porn during working hours so we could mock them and scare them with fake warning messages. Now, I remembered his lessons and found it surprisingly easy to hook up my computer terminal to what I hoped was the terminal of someone with higher-level security clearance and access to the protected files.

Setting up the remote desktop was not hard. The more difficult one was to look for and edit the file without the person noticing. I tried one ruse – sending the person an email saying he was wanted for a consultation right now at the other end of the building. I sent the memo and crossed my fingers. Minutes later, I got lucky; he sent a reply email saying he was on his way.

I waited about two minutes, just in case he had not left his terminal immediately, then began searching his computer. I managed to find a link to shared folders that contained the drug formulas. And (it seemed too easy) there were files whose names included "Revised", indicating they were edited regularly. My changes would go unnoticed.

Colin had provided me with the changes that needed to be done and made me memorise them so I did not have to bring in any pieces of paper that could be used as incriminating evidence against me. I was not unfamiliar with data entry so this part was a breeze. I finished the edits within minutes, saved the file and shut down the remote link.

Meanwhile, I had another part to play – getting Colin and Owen into the building without arousing the attention of the security system. This was not accomplished until after lunch. There was far too much activity in the morning and workers did not seem to settle down until after they had their midday meals. While walking around with my dummy papers and files, I kept an eye out for employees who left their security passes at their desks instead of wearing them around when in the office. By afternoon, I had selected two good candidates and took their passes.

Entry in and out was easy for me with my visitor's pass and, when I took my lunch break, I met Colin and Owen and handed them the security passes. We then returned to the factory. Colin's job was to neutralise the current batch of drugs on the manufacturing line. Owen had to destroy the finished product that were being kept in the factory's storage areas and awaiting government approval to be shipped out for public sale. The plan was to either confiscate the batch, citing health and safety regulations, or destruction by fire. All three of us agreed arson was to be the extremely last resort.

I took over the stolen security pass and handed Owen the visitor's badge. The plan was that I was an employee bringing the Health and Safety officer to inspect the products; we trusted that the workers in the storage bays would not recognise the general office workers.

Owen was a good actor and played a very convincing as a Health and Safety officer walking in and announcing that the goods were all under inspection and needed to be moved out of the building and into the Health and Safety labs for testing. Yes, the entire batch. You got a problem with that mate? Take it up with upstairs; I'm just doing what I'm told, you'd best do it too. I was impressed with his performance. I just stayed the company representative, looking and feeling embarrassed at what was happening and just gave the nod when the storage workers looked to me for approval of this seemingly unorthodox order.

Everything was going to plan until I heard an authoritative call from behind for everyone to stop what they were doing immediately. I turned quickly to see Alex James striding towards us, two bodyguards in tow. Everyone froze.

"Is there a problem, sir?" the man I took to be the foreman came up to him and asked.

Alex did not answer him. "Everyone out," he ordered coldly. To Owen and me: "You two, stay." His tone brooked no argument or disagreement. This was the steely powerful side to Alex James that I had not seen before. I now believed he could be cruel.

Owen took my hand in a protective gesture and set me behind him as the other workers scuttled away. The two bodyguards remained and flanked us.

"My dear Danae, you disappoint me," Alex said, his voice returning to the charming suave tone I had heard before. "Not only do you choose to side with my enemies, you work with them against me. Conning my workers and sabotaging my production line? What wrong have I ever done you?" He shook his head and sounded hurt.

Owen's grip tightened around my hand. "You offered her a choice," he said evenly. "She chose. She's a free agent after all."

"I'm sure the young lady is more than capable of speaking for herself," Alex said. "After all, she did infiltrate my office and spend the whole morning right under my nose. It was only when she brought you two in that I discovered her presence. Very well done, I must add, Danae. But ultimately futile."

"You knew we were going to be here sooner or later," Owen realised. "You set out a trap at the party and we took the bait."

"Bravo to you too, Owen," Alex said sarcastically. "Though I would have thought that by now you and Colin would know my methods much better than to fall for such a transparent tactic." To the bodyguards he ordered: "Take her."

The two guards closed in on us. Owen moved into a more defensive stance, preparing himself for a fight. He did manage to score several hits while keeping his body between me and the two guards. However, the guards were bigger than he was and physically pulled us apart. One of them restrained him after punching him hard in the stomach and the other held me by my left arm.

"Leave her alone!" Owen roared, struggling against the guard's tight hold on him.

"Temper, temper," Alex goaded. "If the two of you are here, the third man can't be far. Where is Colin?" he asked me.

My hopes rose. If Colin was still at large, it meant he could still help us. Owen seemed to have thought the same thing for he stopped trying to fight.

"We don't know where he is," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

Alex's face darkened. He nodded to the guard holding me and his grip tightened on my arm to the point where it grew painful and I winced. "Let's try this again, shall we?" he repeated. "Where is Colin Bradley?"

"I said I don't know," I insisted truthfully.

"Then maybe your friend does!" Alex snapped, turning to Owen who shot daggers at him with his eyes. Alex returned the stare, leaning in close to Owen, his face right next to Owen's. "Answer the question and perhaps no one gets hurt."

"You know I don't break under pressure. You've tried it before," Owen said defiantly.

"Oh, I know you don't break under pressure," Alex said coolly. "But I didn't say anything about doing anything to you." He looked over at me. Owen's eyes widened as he stared at me and realised what Alex had meant.

I did not get it until it was too late. The guard holding me gave my arm a huge wrench and pain exploded from my left shoulder. I let out an involuntary scream in shock and pain.

"Danae!" Owen cried. "Don't hurt her," he pleaded. "You know she's only doing what we told her to."

"Oh we've gone far beyond that point now, Owen," Alex said. "Tell me what I want to know. Where is Colin?"

"I don't know," Owen said.

"Maybe I'll kill her, then you'll know."

The fear that entered Owen's eyes then haunted me. He looked at me in desperation. I knew he was telling the truth. He did not know where Colin was. But his lack of knowledge might get me killed and he knew this.

Owen was pausing for far too long and Alex grew impatient. He signalled my guard again who gave my shoulder another wrench. This time I almost fainted from the pain. It hurt too much to even scream. My knees grew weak under me and buckled, causing me to fall to the floor. With the guard still holding my arm, it made the situation worse for me.

"Please," Owen pleaded again. "I honestly don't know where Colin is. You can do anything you like to me. Just stop hurting her."

Alex gave Owen and I an odd look at his last plea but did not articulate what he was thinking. Instead, he returned to the topic at hand. "Then, let me tell you where Colin is. He's out somewhere in my factory trying to sabotage my operations, isn't he? He's trying to neutralise the drug, isn't he?"

"Yes," Owen admitted. "That's what he's doing. But I truly don't know where exactly he is."

"Maybe this will lure him out then," Alex said. "Kill her."

I expected to see my life flash before my eyes. But instead of my childhood, I saw a blindingly bright flash of light. The iron grip on my arm loosened. Someone grabbed me and dragged me to my feet, pulling me away. I did not know whether to follow or resist. In any case, my shoulder was hurting so badly that I had no more strength left to fight, even if I wanted to.

When my eyes adjusted, I found that Owen was the one dragging me, forcing me to move faster. But everything was hazy and I could not focus on what was going on. I had an impression of following someone down a hallway and out of the building. The pain in my arm was growing worse from all the running and jolting of my body. It finally overwhelmed me and pulled me down into comforting darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

I woke up in an uncomfortable bed. The first thing I noticed was that the blanket covering my legs was extremely stiff and scratchy. The second was that my left arm was uncomfortably sore, though less painful than before. I opened my eyes fully. It was night time and I was in a hospital room. My left arm was bound tightly and in a sling. Looking at it made the events at the Kerise factory come rushing back and I felt terrified.

Looking around the room, I saw Owen dozing in a chair by the bed. I didn't feel like getting up so I stretched out my leg and nudged him with my foot, calling his name as I did so. He jerked awake and almost fell out of the chair. Then he saw that it was my doing and a look of relief came over his face.

He leaned over, resting his elbows on the side of the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

"I'm better than before, I think," I answered. "What happened?"

He told me that after Alex gave the order to kill me, Colin, who had been lurking around the area all along, cast a spell, creating a diversion to help us get away. The two men decided to bring me to the hospital after I fainted. I had a very badly dislocated shoulder but was lucky that the injury stopped short of requiring surgery. The doctors managed to manoeuvre it back into place and immobilised it with a sling. They decided to keep me hospitalised overnight as I was drifting in and out of consciousness, and they had also given me morphine to help with the pain.

"And Alex? What happened to him? Did Colin manage to stop him?" I asked.

Owen's face was grim. "No. He got away. I have worse news. Colin found out that there was no miracle drug being produced and no mind-control scheme. It was a trap all along. And we walked right into it. Now we have no clue about what he's planning next. Colin's mad as hell over this and worry about you. And I must say, I am too. Worried, that is. I'm sorry. You were right that all this was like a bad movie plot and bound to fail."

He sounded so dejected that I felt sorry for him. I sat up – the morphine must have still been working for I felt little pain – and took his hand. "We'll figure it out. I'm sure we will."

Owen lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. "I hope so, love." He then got up and sat on the bed next to me. "I've been doing a lot of thinking in the last few hours and there's something I need to tell you."

"Go on," I prompted.

"Danae, I almost lost you today," he said. "Watching Alex hurt you and being unable to do anything made me feel more helpless and afraid than I have been in a long time now. I was wondering why I felt this way. I've been with other people before in the same situation as we were in but I had never felt like that. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, of a world which didn't have you in it."

"Owen, I'm here and I'm fine," I said. I had a feeling I knew where he was going with this and was in equal parts excited and nervous.

"I know. But, it got me to thinking about why this was the case. What made you so different to me? And I think I know. Danae, I think I love you. And you have no idea how much this is killing me right now."

"What's wrong with being in love?" I asked, not understanding why he was so conflicted.

"Danae, I'm immortal. Even if you share my love, we can't ever be together. It's not fair to you and I can't go through it again. My heart can't take it."

"Again?"

"I've loved before. Many times. But everyone I loved grew old and died. And they all say the same thing. 'Don't forget me', 'Remember me'. But I can't. I'm left behind to try and forget and move on. Except that it hurts every time. It never stops hurting," he said. He paused, raising his hand and gently caressed my cheek. "Danae, you are so precious to me but I'm afraid to love you. I can't give you one lifetime."

"Owen, we can work through this. I'm sure we can," I said. I wanted more than anything to comfort him and make him feel alright again. Most of all, I realised, I wanted him to love me.

That did not cheer him up. "No, we can't. I won't let you be burdened with my dilemma. I just needed to tell you and I needed for you to listen." His tone of voice suddenly changed and he looked straight into my eyes, his chocolate brown eyes so full of sadness and determination. "And now, I need you to forget all this," he said. My mind grew hazy again and I sank back into unconsciousness.

When I woke up, it was morning. Owen was in the chair by my side, rocking on the back two legs and humming something off-key. "Good morning, love," he said cheerfully. "How are we feeling today?"

I had a nagging feeling like I was forgetting something important from a dream. But the more I tried to remember, the more it slipped away. My shoulder ached and felt sore and I told him so.

"That'll probably be the morphine wearing off," he suggested. "Anyway, yesterday, the doctors said you could be discharged after breakfast, as long as you aren't showing any nausea or fever. Which you aren't, right? You had a good long sleep so your body should have had time to recover."

"I feel fine. No nausea and no fever," I assured him. He smiled. The hospital breakfast tray came in shortly afterwards. Oatmeal and some scrambled eggs with toast and tea. Everything tasted terrible. At first, Owen thought it was just the after-effect of the medications that were wreaking havoc on my taste buds. But after one bite of the food, he agreed with me and promised to take me out for a real breakfast after I was discharged.

That could not have happened soon enough. The doctors found no reason to keep me and signed the papers to let me out. Within the hour, Owen and I were seated in a café with plates of delicious pancakes and fried sausages and eggs. I was starving. It was his treat.

"Don't forget to chew, love," Owen teased as he watched me shovel food one-handed into my mouth.

"Hey, I'm starving," I informed him. "I've been unconscious for a long time. The last meal I had was lunch yesterday. I figured that out while waiting for that nurse to sort out the discharge papers." He just smiled indulgently.

The TV was on in the café and tuned in to the news. The announcer was just reading out a report on the world nuclear peace treaty. It was a landmark treaty that had recently been hammered out between the world nuclear powers. Under the treaty, all nuclear weapons would be decommissioned and sent to a dumpsite in the remote Russian Far East. There, they would be safely buried and left to break down, never again to be used as a threat in war. The world had decided to turn its back on nuclear weaponry forever.

The leading nuclear powers – Britain, the United States, Russia, France and China – had disarmed a long time ago. The smaller nuclear powers – India, Pakistan and Israel – were in the midst of completing the transfer of their nuclear arsenal. Today's news announced that North Korea and Iran had just begun the transfer process. It was being hailed as the end of the nuclear age and the final end to the Cold War. The International Atomic Energy Agency was throwing a celebratory party.

"Isn't that wonderful?" I asked, indicating the TV. "Maybe that Age of Aquarius thing is really going to happen. No more threats of nuclear war."

Owen was frowning. "It is. But it doesn't seem right. North Korea and Iran especially; they spent so long fighting for nuclear weapons, and even denying that they had any. Why would they just give it up when nothing is offered in return? Makes no sense."

"Maybe they've seen the light and decided to repent," I suggested. "Stranger things have happened. Myanmar suddenly turning into a democracy, for example. I've never understood that."

He gave me a queer look. "That is true," he said thoughtfully. "I'd never stopped to think about how strange that was." He went quiet, deep in thought.

When I had finished, Owen brought me home. He was preoccupied the entire journey. When we got back to Hackney and home, he handed me the pain medications the pharmacy had dispensed, told me to make sure I got plenty of rest and left without even trying to get an invitation to stay. It was definitely not like him.

But he was the least of my problems. Now fed and full, I took a dose of medicine and went to bed. It was difficult finding a comfortable spot with one arm immobilised but the meds knocked me out very quickly.

It was lunchtime when I woke up and I was feeling hungry again. A quick check in the fridge revealed that there was absolutely nothing in the house. I groaned. I did not relish the thought of going grocery shopping one-armed. However, since it had to be done, I grit my teeth and headed out to the nearby Tesco.

As it was the middle of a weekday, there were relatively few people in the shop. I ran into one or two people I knew from around the neighbourhood who asked what happened to my arm – but did not offer to help me with my groceries. That was the kind of neighbourhood I lived in. I loaded up on soup, cereal and bread. I also bought various types of berries and a carton of milk so I could make myself a smoothie. I had dumped them all into a trolley and was planning to just push the trolley back home and return it the next time I popped by Tesco.

As I made my way to the checkout counter, I heard someone calling me from behind. Thinking it was another nosy neighbour, I turned with a resigned sigh. But instead, I saw an old schoolmate – Bella Whitlock. She was dressed in a suitably fashionable dress to suggest an office worker but casually enough to suggest that she was not one of those who were required to look completely polished.

"Bella! What are you doing here?" I asked in surprise. I had lost contact with her since our school days. She was the pretty popular girl; I was the weird one who lurked in corners. The last time I saw her, she and her cronies had dumped a bucket of water and glitter over me. It took me days to get clean.

"I was working a job in the area and came in to get some nibbles," Bella replied. "What about you? You're the last person I expected to see here. What happened to your arm?"

"I dislocated it," I said. "Anyway, I live around here and popped in to stock up on groceries. What kind of job are you in?"

"I'm a reporter now," Bella told me. "It's really exciting. I'm part of the team covering the nuclear treaty. Did you hear about it in the news?"

"Of course I did," I said. "That's really something. How did it all happen? Wasn't the nuclear energy commission wrangling with all those countries for years with no consensus on anything?"

"I know, isn't it odd?" Bella agreed. "But it wasn't the IAEA that hammered out the treaty. They're just the public face. There's another organisation behind that did all the legwork and somehow managed to convince even the North Koreans and Iranians to come on board. Mind you, this is no mean feat, considering that just six months ago, Iran was staunchly denying that it had any form of nuclear weaponry."

I suddenly blessed Bella for her love of showing off. She was a mine of information now. "So what's this shadow organisation then? The UN?"

Bella laughed. "Please! The UN is such a lame duck, pathetic excuse of an organisation. Wouldn't be able to dream up a nuclear treaty like this even if it smacked them in the face. And if it were them, they would not hesitate to take the credit. They wouldn't be hiding and pretending they had no hand it."

"Not the UN? There aren't many other international bodies with the influence over world affairs. Don't tell me it's Nato."

Bella suddenly looked a little worried. "I don't know if I should even be telling you all this. I was told to keep it under wraps. The organisation didn't want the publicity so there's a blanket ban in the media on their name."

"I'm not in the media. Come on. You can tell me. It's a good thing anyway, not as if you're spreading a scandal or libel."

"Ok, I'll tell you. But you must promise not to tell another media agency. It'll be my head on the chopping block if it gets traced back to me," Bella warned. I assured her again that I was not going to talk to any other media outlet and blab. "The organisation – you must have heard of them; they're everywhere – is Eceline."


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

I cannot really recall how I managed to get home with all my groceries, except that there was no stolen Tesco trolley in my flat. I think Bella must have given me a lift in her little pink Mini. I do remember her voice going on and on about other stories she was attempting to chase down. I must have given her the appropriate responses for when she dropped me off at my flat, she gave me her name card and even suggested we meet up for lunch or tea at another time after my arm had healed.

Foremost on my mind was the knowledge that Eceline had been behind that landmark nuclear treaty. It had to be Alex James' doing. No one but him – with all his charm and ability to influence people – would have been able to accomplish such a feat.

I do not deny that I felt a little shudder of fear when I thought of Alex James. I was glad the pain medication I was taking was sufficiently strong to knock me out and have a dreamless sleep. I was sure I would have nightmares of almost dying in that factory otherwise, just when I needed my sleep most.

But for him to have gotten the world's nuclear powers to work together and give up that capability was out of sync with what I knew and felt. Was Alex James really capable of such altruism? I remembered what Owen had told me – that he never did anything unless he could gain something by it, be it power, influence or a favour to be called in at a later stage. What would he gain by this treaty? Not money. Certainly not influence; he had not even wanted his organisation credited for this feat. Power and favours? Perhaps, but it was limited because of his anonymity. If anything, this treaty seemed more like the grand finale of a lifetime of cultivating influence, pulling strings, calling in favours and showing off his power.

Perhaps some of Colin and Owen's attitudes were rubbing off on me. I began thinking like a conspiracy theorist. Alex was known to have a mind-control drug. He could have used it on the world leaders to make them bend to his will. That would explain the "how". But the question of "why" still remained. If I had influence on the world's leaders, I would probably make them do a lot of other things – like stopping poverty and making everybody get along. Nuclear disarmament specifically would be low on my list.

My mind went back to the news report I had heard. I was sketchy on the details as I was high on pain meds and enjoying my breakfast at the time. But I was sure it said that the weapons were all going to a dumpsite and would be buried and left alone to allow the nuclear material to safely degrade.

Then it struck me. If Eceline took charge of the dumpsite afterwards, Alex would have the world's largest arsenal of nuclear weaponry at his disposal. He had spoken before about destroying this world and starting from a blank slate to create something better. This must be how he intended to carry out his plan. Terrifying as the image of a nuclear explosion big enough to take out the earth was, there was no other explanation for his actions.

I thought through my theory several times during the night, trying hard to see if there was any other explanation to fit the facts and willing for one to present itself. I must have fallen asleep while still thinking and forgot to take my pain meds for my dreams were full of scenes of nuclear apocalypses and running fearfully down long dark factory corridors, trying to stay ahead of an unseen Alex James who was bent on doing me harm.

I woke at 5am, shaking and unwilling to back to sleep even though I felt exhausted. I got up and turned on the telly. The morning news was on – more reports on the nuclear treaty. There had been an announcement overnight: Wild Badger Enterprises, a consortium of British, American and Russian defence contractors, was revealed to be the manager of the nuclear weapons dumpsite. They had taken over an abandoned open-pit diamond mine and brought in deep tunnel borers to make the pit deeper to accommodate the amount of nuclear waste safely.

The pit was ready for the big unveiling. The news cameras had panned over the area and showed the huge open pit with workers carefully manoeuvring the warheads down. The disposal of North Korean nukes – the final batch slated to arrive – on Dec 15 and the sealing of the pit would be the grand finale of the work and would be televised live to mark the historic occasion.

After watching that report, I was willing to bet anyone anything that behind Wild Badger Enterprises was Eceline and its malevolent puppet master Alex James.

Despite my dislocated shoulder, which was hurting quite badly this morning, I showered and dressed in almost record time and was out of the house to catch the first train to Holloway.

There was practically no one in the station or train at six in the morning and it was cold as the train sped through the tunnel. The few other passengers dozed. The sky was still dark and the streets quiet when I alighted and brisk walked to the office. I felt like I had to tell Owen everything or I might suffer a mental breakdown.

The building was locked but Owen had supplied me an electronic code that I could type in to open the door. I did so now. The lock beeped and the door swung open for me. The lobby was quiet and deserted. It was extremely creepy being in the lift. The dingy hallway on the fifth floor was dark at this time and did nothing to dispel the spooky atmosphere. It was only when I stood outside the office did I think about the early hour and the possibility that there might be no one there and the office was locked up.

I tried the door and it was indeed locked. But I could hear the sound of running water so someone must be in. I knocked loudly and called: "Hello? Anyone home?"

The running water sound stopped and there was a long and pregnant pause. Eventually, footsteps approached the door. I heard the rattle of keys and the door opened. Colin stood there, his hair sticking up in all directions, and wearing faded Bermuda shorts and a damp long-sleeved tshirt with the sleeves pushed up. He had a towel hung around his neck that was absorbing water that dripped from his hair. There were still some soap suds to be seen between the strands. I must have caught him in the middle of a shower. "Danae? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be on sick leave?" he asked in surprise.

He let me in and went into the pantry, returning a few minutes later dry and clean and without the towel. He handed me a cup of tea. "You look like you're freezing," he commented.

"Thanks," I said. "I need to talk to Owen. Is he here?"

"No," Colin answered. "Didn't he tell you? He's gone to Myanmar."

"Pardon?" I asked, not believing my ears.

"He came back yesterday afternoon, muttered something about checking up on something in Myanmar, packed a bag and left," Colin informed me. "There was a charge on our credit card for an air ticket to Yangon by Vietnam Airlines yesterday. I presumed he had told you, since he was with you since..." He trailed off but I knew what he meant. He meant, since the incident at Kerise.

"He didn't tell me anything," I said. "Did he say when he'd be back?" I asked. A rising tide of panic was unexpectedly welling up inside me. Owen was not here and I did not know what to do.

"No. And it was a one-way ticket, which means he could be there for any amount of time," Colin said. He looked at me in concern. "Danae, what's wrong? Can I help?"

I told him everything – the nuclear treaty, my suspicions, my meeting with Bella and the information she had given me, and my realisation that Alex James could be literally trying to blow up the world.

Colin listened gravely to all I had to say without interrupting. When I was done, he sat back, deep in thought. I could practically see the gears moving in his head. I let him follow his train of thought and turned my own thoughts to my shoulder. It was aching very badly now, after I had strained my body on the journey here.

"Is your arm hurting?" Colin suddenly asked.

I was loath to admit it but he was very astute. "Yes," I told him. "I forgot to take the pain meds since last night. And I've left them at home," I added after looking through my bag for them.

Colin got up and stood over me. He placed one hand on my shoulder and the other on my forearm. "I'm not going to heal it, but this will help," he said. He then muttered something and his eyes glowed golden. Warmth emanated from his hands and spread through my arm. The pain stopped and Colin stepped away.

"What did you do?" I asked in amazement. "Was that magic?"

"Something like that," he said. I stared at him. "What I did was essentially like a muscle relaxant. I didn't heal your arm completely – it's best to leave that to nature. I just made things more comfortable for you. I could tell it was really bothering you."

I cautiously rotated my shoulder. There was some resistance where the popped out bone had not yet healed but the pain was bearable and minimal. "Thank you," I said.

"Don't mention it," he said. "And I do mean it. I don't advertise my having magic. In this day and age, it only attracts trouble. You cannot imagine how many of those new-age witches and self-declared warlocks I've had to beat off before I changed my name and moved away."

As he left me to digest that bit of information about him, he picked up his phone and dialled. "Owen, it's me. I don't know what you're doing in Myanmar but wrap it up as soon as possible and go to Yakutsk. I need you to take a look at that deep borehole for the nuclear weapons. Danae may have had a breakthrough. Call me when you get this."

"He didn't answer his phone?" I asked conversationally.

"Technically, he'd still be on the plane and in midflight now," Colin pointed out. "But I'll pass on what you've told me when he calls back."

"Is it safe for him to go poking around in Russia?" I asked.

"He's been in worse situations. He one of those types who usually can talk his way out of anything," Colin assured me with a grin. I did not feel better. I had seen Owen in a tight situation only days earlier and he was completely helpless. As I thought that, I had that feeling again like I had forgotten something important.

Colin told me to sit and rest. He spent the next few hours calling up contacts and sources to check if there was basis to my theory that the nuclear treaty was part of Alex James' diabolical plan. For all we knew, it was truly an altruistic move and Eceline's involvement was just a coincidence. So far, what he turned up suggested I was right.

But I could not settle down. I spent the morning reading every news article I could find on the Internet related to the nuclear treaty, trying to glean as much information as I could about it. There was not much else to find. The reports were all mainly the same and contained very similar information. Some were exact copies of reports from the wires, just with the headlines changed. It was very frustrating.

I did not notice how much time had passed until Colin set a plate down in front of me. The smell that wafted up told me it was a beef pie. The shape and pattern of the pie and crust told me it was one of those frozen pies you popped into the microwave and was ready in minutes. He too had a similar pie. I looked down at my pie. Being unable to handle a fork and knife, I simply picked it up with my fingers and ate it that way. Its warmth was very welcome.

"You know, you really should go home and rest, Danae. You look terrible," Colin commented.

I knew he was trying to be kind in his own way and so did not snap at him. "I need to keep busy," I said. Colin took my plate away to wash after I finished eating. When he returned, he handed me a glass of water and a tablet. "What's this?" I asked.

"Diazepam," he said. "Valium."

"I'm not taking a sleeping pill!" I protested.

"I promised Owen I would take care of you when he isn't around. You need to rest, Danae. You've just gone through a trauma, and you're wounded. You keep pushing your body like this and you're going to have a breakdown," Colin said urgently.

"How would you know? You're not a doctor," I said defiantly.

"Actually, I am," Colin said. "I've been trained as a healer, physician, doctor, and numerous other names for this profession over the centuries. And I'm telling you, you need to rest."

My body screamed at me, telling me to listen to him, but I ignored it. I did not want to sleep. I was afraid of where my dreams would take me. Colin saw my will wavering and made his move. He put his arms around me and drew me into a hug. This unexpected human contact pushed me over the edge. I lost control and burst into tears. When the worst of my sobs was over, Colin guided me over to their private room and through the door.

On the other side was a room, about the same size as the main office, but partitioned into two smaller rooms. Colin led me to the room on the right. It was his bedroom. Evidently, I was right in my suspicion that he and Owen both lived in the office. His room was furnished very simply, with barely any of the knick-knacks that showed the personality of the person living there. The lone personal piece was a small sculpture of a dragon made out of wood that sat atop his chest of drawers.

He had a twin-sized bed that was covered with a dark blue comforter. He made me lie down and tucked me in. He produced the Valium again and this time, I took it without resisting. I had reached my breaking point. I fell asleep before he had even left the room.

I woke when I heard Colin rummaging around the room, putting some clothes into a small bag. A glance at a clock he had on the wall showed that hours had passed. I was surprised. I had not thought I would be able to sleep at all.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Colin asked, when he noticed me watching him.

"Not really. Are you going somewhere?" I asked.

Colin nodded. "I have to go out of town for a while. My contact in Italy thinks he has some evidence for me but refuses to give it unless I go to get it myself," he sounded irritated at this inconvenience. "And then I think I will join Owen in Yakutsk. Now that I think about it, he might need backup."

He then inquired how I was feeling. I assured him that he had been right and I felt much better after the rest that he had forced me to take. That brought a smile out of him and he quipped that at least he had not needed to resort to drugging my tea to get me to take some downtime. He finished his packing then took me out to a chippy for dinner. Afterwards, he called a cab and took me home.

He had the cab wait for him as he walked me up to my flat, making sure I got back in one piece.

"What do you want me to do while you both are gone?" I asked him before I entered my flat.

"Preferably nothing," he said. "But I know you won't listen to me so just do what you think is right. But, I can't emphasise this enough, Danae: Do not go after Alex James by yourself. Do you understand me? That man is dangerous."

"I hear you," I said. "I won't go after him." And right at that moment, I meant every word.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Days passed and I kept out trouble. Owen sent me a text message to tell me that he had met up with Colin in Yakutsk and that they were on the way out to the dumpsite, located in the wilderness far outside the city. It was so isolated that the site had no name before this year. They had to create a new name for the place – Mirnbligorod, meaning City of Peace.

For my part, sitting around at home got boring after the first day, especially since my arm prevented me from doing much more than watch TV. Finally, I decided I would go to the office and do some research. The office computer terminals, once they could be coaxed into working, were far more powerful than I had given them credit for. They may not be able to perform functions normal computers were expected to do – like produce documents or surf the Internet – but they were veritable databases of information, capable of tapping library records, police wireless signals, web cams and CCTVs over the city, just to name a few. My mate Sharon at the Home Office would have to turn us all in if she ever found out about this spy paradise.

Colin had sternly forbidden me from going after Alex James. He had not said anything about keeping tabs on him. As such, I had no qualms about spying on his movements around the city through the many surveillance cameras installed at every street corner. London was a city with one of the highest number of surveillance cameras in operation in the world and it was easy to track a person's movements right from his doorstep, around the city and back home again at night. With some luck, I could even track him through CCTVs installed inside buildings.

I spent another three days like this, stalking Alex James around the city through the CCTV network. He led a busy life; that was for sure. He was on the move almost all the time in and around the city. Mostly, he was driven around in a very lovely Jaguar by one of his two chauffeurs. Sometimes, for short distances, he would just walk.

He spent very little time at his headquarters at the Eceline office tower, usually just popping in for an hour or so in the mornings before heading out again. I had expected him, as head of a huge conglomerate, to spend a lot of time being (or looking) busy in his office. Clearly, he was a different kind of chief executive; one who preferred to have his hand and presence in everything.

My patience was rewarded on the fifth day. Alex James had his chauffeur drop him off at the British Museum. He strode inside, where he was out of sight of the street CCTVs. There were no cameras that covered the entire museum courtyard. It took me a while to get into the museum's systems. I thought I had lost him when I scanned through the cameras positioned at the main galleries and the library and found nothing. I gave it one more shot by pulling up a mosaic of all the cameras, creating an image like how they show surveillance cameras in security rooms in the films.

I spotted Alex James in one of the tiny frames. Enlarging it, I discovered that he was emerging from the museum vaults. The vaults were certainly off the visitors' routes and I doubted there was any good reason for him to have been there. This, I thought, was worth investigating personally.

There was still time left before the museum closed so I decided to pay it a visit myself. When I got there, the museum was packed full of gawking tourists and school groups. I skirted the edges of the groups until I found a door bearing a "Private: Employees Only" sign and slipped in. I was not sure of where I was going – I had been unable to retrace Alex James' exact route due to the lack of hackable security cameras in the area.

Luck was on my side though. I kept heading down and soon found myself in the basement and a stuffy storage area that I recognised as the hallway where Alex James had emerged. I followed this path and found myself in a cavernous hall the likes of which I have seen only in movies. Dusty crates were stacked into mini mountains, and shelves bore smaller artefacts wrapped in plastic and identified by yellowing paper labels to them with string. Larger artefacts were placed on the floor and covered in cloth and plastic.

I wandered through this maze of wonders, feeling a bit like Indiana Jones when he was looking for that crystal skull in the government warehouse. Didn't the British Museum actually have a crystal skull at one point? Who knew what curiosities were here under the protective plastic and cloth, packed away as public tastes changed and newer exhibits were brought in? For a while, I did not care why Alex James was here. I was just glad I had followed and found this place. I wished I could unwrap everything and discover what was underneath.

One artefact sitting on a metal shelf caught my eye. It was a small golden chalice under a clear plastic cover. It was plain and undecorated, mounted on three small legs. For all its plainness, it was attractive nevertheless. I felt chills just looking at it. I felt as if it were calling me, wanting me to come closer and touch it. Someone had clearly been handling this piece often for the dust around it was disturbed.

I went closer and put my right hand out to touch the stem of the cup. It must have been my imagination but there was a slight tingling sensation when I first touched it, then it seemed to be warm and vibrate in my hand. The inside was stained brown, like when you left mugs of tea out for too long and forgot to wash them. I had an urge to use my finger to wipe at the stain.

Suddenly, something cold, metallic and sharp touched my neck from behind. "Put it back, girl," Alex James' voice ordered. I shuddered and did as I was told, putting the cup back very slowly then raising my hand in a gesture of surrender.

"Are you a glutton for punishment, Danae?" Alex James asked. "Why do you keep insisting on poking your nose into what doesn't concern you?" The knife at my throat pressed in a little harder, though not yet hard enough to break the skin. "Turn around. Slowly."

I did so. Alex James was wearing a smug expression on his face. "No knight in shining armour to back you up this time, is there?" he gloated. He removed the knife from my throat. "Don't worry. I'm not going to kill you today. Too much of a mess. The museum would never forgive me."

"Then what do you want?" I asked.

He grabbed me, holding my arms in a vice-like grip. I felt my dislocated shoulder start to protest again. He stared straight at me, cold blue eyes boring into me. "I want you to forget everything you've seen here. Forget about the cup."

My mind went hazy. When the fog cleared, I saw Alex James standing before me but could not remember when he arrived or what I was doing in the museum vaults. "What are you doing here, girl?" he demanded.

I was terrified. I did the only thing I could – I ran. He chased me. It was my nightmare coming true and I did not like it one bit. This time, I would not wake up. I ran, but in my fear, I lost my sense of direction and that cavern of wonders turned into a deadly labyrinth for me. I was so afraid that I would turn a corner and he would be there waiting to hurt me.

An eternity seemed to have passed before I finally stumbled onto the right path that led me out of the vaults. I burst out of the employee area and into the crowded atrium. The people there gave me odd looks. I pushed through them, knowing there was safety in the crowd. I ran through the crowd, into the galleries and hid in a corner – part of the crowd but not in it – where I broke down and burst into tears from all the fear and stress.

I was nervous wreck for the next two days. I tried to rationalise my fear, attempting to understand why I had been so utterly terrified. Alex James had not done anything threatening. He had just asked a question and I had bolted like a frightened rabbit. I knew my trauma over my injured shoulder had something to do with it but that could not have been everything. I had this feeling at the back of mind again that there was something important that I was forgetting.

Owen and Colin returned from Russia two days later. Owen had sent me a text message to announce their arrival back at Heathrow and asked me to meet them at the office the next morning where they would tell me what happened. Having spent the last two days in a state of utter terror, the next morning was too far away and I rushed down to the office immediately.

Owen answered the door when I got there and I flung my good arm around him in a hug. He seemed surprised. "Woah there, love. I wasn't expecting this kind of welcome. Did you miss me that much?" he asked.

"Oh shut up. I'm just really glad you're back," I said. Colin came out of his room then and waved at me. "The both of you. I've been such a nervous Nellie."

They had clearly just stepped in, judging by the way their luggage and dirty clothes were strewn willy-nilly on the floor. Owen hugged me. "I'm glad to see you too. I'm sorry I disappeared without a word to you."

"It's ok. I don't own you," I said. "But you know, next time, just tell me anyway. It's only polite." Owen agreed and let me go so Colin could come over and greet me. He just gave me a quick hug then went back to pulling laundry out of his bag.

"How was the trip?" I asked. "What were you doing in Myanmar anyway?"

Owen laughed at that. He told me that my comment about the oddness of Myanmar turning democratic and the sudden nuclear treaty made him draw a link with Alex James and mind control. He flew to Yangon and spoke to people there and also, posing as a doctor, got hold of blood samples from the leaders in question. He had sent them to Dr Morgan in Marylebone Road who confirmed that they had been victims of Alex James' mind control drug. He concluded that the Myanmar case must have been a test run by Alex to see if it would work and how much the public would realise that their leaders were acting out of character. Apparently, no one had noticed.

With his drug proven to be a success, Alex James had engineered the nuclear treaty through the same means – first normal persuasion by negotiators from Eceline to lay the groundwork, then drugs for those who were more stubborn and refused to cooperate according to his schedule. Alex had manipulated the world leaders into agreeing to the landmark treaty and handing over the nuclear weapons.

When Owen went to see the dumpsite at Mirnbligorod, he was first astounded by the sheer size and scale of it all. The open pit loomed like a gateway to hell – all that was missing was the cries of the damned and the fires of the devils. All the news publicity shots had been taken from the same one angle and reporters had not been allowed to walk around the site, except on specially arranged PR tours. Ever resourceful, Owen had broken in and saw what the company did not want people to see.

There was barely any proper storage facility. The warheads were literally dumped into a hole with no regard for safety. Radiation was leaking out in increasingly dangerous levels (he had checked with a pocket Geiger counter). Small explosions regularly happened as workers, unsure of how to handle warheads, set them off. There had been at least two deaths in the few days he had been there.

Colin made the story clearer with his findings. He had gone to his contact in Italy who had discovered ("Entirely by accident!" he had insisted) that the instructions sent to the countries pre-transfer had neglected to say that the nuclear warheads had to be disarmed. The information he had refused to hand over to anyone but Colin in person was a USB thumbdrive that he claimed contained copies of launch codes that the countries had handed over to Wild Badger Enterprises.

He said the countries were under the impression Wild Badger would do the disarming according to their own specifications and all they had to do was deliver the goods. But what was happening in reality was, Wild Badger was collecting the launch codes and leaving the warheads still armed and active. This meant that there was a pit full of nuclear weapons lying deep within the earth, each warhead capable of creating a nuclear winter and killing millions.

Alex James' plan, Colin concluded, was to trigger a massive nuclear explosion on Dec 21. The perfect alignment of the earth, the sun's solar flares and the black hole at the centre of the galaxy, on that day, as well as the nuclear explosion, would bathe the earth in a tremendous amount of energy. Alex James would focus this energy and harness it to boost his magic powers and fulfil the cosmological theory of the earth completely tilting on its axis and the reversal of the magnetic poles. This and the nuclear winter that would ensue, would wreak havoc on earth and destroy civilisation as we know it. Alex James would use his mind control drugs to manipulate anyone who opposed him and emerge from the ashes as the head of a new world order and empire.

His story was doing nothing for my impending panic attack. "How can we stop him? All this is too much for just the three of us to handle," I said, despair setting in.

"Don't give up hope," Owen encouraged. "We've stopped him before. We can do it again. Especially now that we've got you."

"Don't," I said. "I'm already terrified."

Colin suddenly looked very interested. "That begs the question: Why are you so terrified? Did something happen while we were away?"

I told them about bumping into Alex James in the British Museum and how the scene from my nightmares came true.

"Did he threaten you or hurt you?" Colin pressed.

"No," I admitted. "I've spent the last few days wondering that myself, but… I think I'm still shell-shocked from our last encounter with him."

"What were you doing in the museum in the first place?" Colin asked.

I paused for a long time. That was something else I had been grappling with. "I honestly can't remember," I finally said. "I remember going to the museum, being annoyed with the crowd, then suddenly I find myself in the basement with Alex appearing behind me and running to escape him."

Owen looked worried. "Did you fall or hit your head?" he asked. I shook my head.

He looked up at Colin who noted: "Lost time can only mean a few things – concussion or you've been spelled."

I felt confused. "What do you mean 'spelled'?"

"It means someone used magic to tamper with your memory. Clumsily, by the looks of it, if you're aware you lost time. Like he didn't care if he was found out," Colin explained.

"Can you fix it?" Owen asked him.

"Of course I can," Colin replied. He came and knelt before me, placing his hands on either side of my head. "It shouldn't be hard to lift. Memory spells are one of the simplest. Close your eyes and relax, Danae. This may be a little uncomfortable. Don't worry, you don't have to tell us or re-live this because I'll be able to see what you see."

Owen held my hand for moral support. I closed my eyes. I heard Colin mutter something and suddenly a whole flood of images and sound came washing over me – like a video on fast-forward inside my head, that golden cup rising to the forefront. It was all over very quickly and Colin released me.

"That cup. Where did you see it?" Colin demanded sharply.

His expression was like that of when I first met him – dangerous. Thankfully, I now had the answers. "The British Museum vaults. I remember now. I was following Alex, wondering what he was up to. I thought he wouldn't be there. Then I found the cup. He threatened to kill me. He had a knife at my throat and everything." Fear was welling up again and I gripped Owen's hand instinctively. He pulled me in for a hug.

"What cup, Col? What did you see?" Owen asked.

Colin's face was grim. "The Cup of Life," he said. "It was the Cup of Life."


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Colin asked if I wanted to stay the night since, by the time they had finished with briefing me on their trip to Italy and Russia, and I had shared my own adventures, it was already very late. He also looked worried about me. I was glad he asked but was hesitant to accept. They did not have that much room here and I did not want anyone to have to sleep on the floor, least of all me.

When I told them this, Owen laughed. "You don't have to be so polite. Colin can bunk in with me and you can take his little bed. Isn't that right Col?" he said.

"Would it be awkward for you? I mean… you know, two men sharing a small bed?" I asked.

"Are you saying you'd like to share with me, love?" Owen asked cheekily. I blushed and cringed. That was not what I had meant at all.

Colin burst into laughter. "He's got a queen-sized bed, Danae," he informed me. I had not known this. I had not seen Owen's room last time so I had just assumed he had a small bed like Colin's. "And it's fine. After you've been with a bloke for 2,000 years, there's nothing you don't know about him."

"He's got a secret crush on me," Owen told me in a stage whisper. "Don't worry, Col. I'll put a glass of water in the middle so your integrity is kept safe."

"You should be worried I might put a curse on you in the middle of the night for stealing the covers," Colin teased.

It was a nice feeling as we all laughed together and got ready to turn in for the night. Owen showed me his room. It was the same size as Colin's but, true to what I was told, he had a queen-sized bed. However, that meant he had less space left around the room. Unlike Colin, he did have a lot of personal knick-knacks around that took up even more of the space. There was a guitar propped up against the wall, quirky souvenirs from foreign countries, framed artsy black and white photographs of buildings and landscapes, and even a Real Madrid poster next to an old picture of Madonna. This was definitely a lived-in room and reflected its owner.

Owen gave me one of his tshirts to change into. It was big enough that, on me, it could pass as a nightie. I was tired and so turned in earlier than the two men. As I lay in Colin's bed, I could hear them talking in low voices outside, though they were talking too quietly for me to hear their words. It was certainly nice. I had lived so long by myself in my flat that I forgot what it was like to have people around at night. I had not realised that I was lonely until now. I fell asleep listening to their voices.

Morning came far too soon. I was a little disoriented when I woke but I quickly remembered where that I had spent the night in Owen and Colin's home in the office. It was all quiet. I guessed that the two men had not yet woken. I got up softly, thinking that it would be nice of me to make breakfast for them, since they had been so good to me.

I brushed my teeth quickly with one of their toothbrushes – I figured that they would not mind – and threw on my jeans and tucked in Owen's tshirt to keep it out of the way. I got the kettle on then inspected their fridge. There was not much in there but there was a loaf of bread and eggs. French toast it was then.

Owen wandered into the pantry as I began frying up the bread. "I thought I smelt something good," he commented sleepily, looking over my shoulder.

"Good morning to you too," I greeted. "I thought I'd make breakfast."

"Mm mmm…" he hummed approvingly before heading to the bathroom to clean up. After doing so, he popped downstairs to buy a newspaper from a nearby vendor.

Colin came in soon after. "Morning, Danae," he said. "Oh wow, you're cooking. I didn't know that stove could handle it."

"Go brush your teeth, it'll be ready in a while," I instructed.

"Yes, ma'am," Colin said and did as he was told.

Owen, meanwhile, had returned with a copy of the Daily Mail and The Sun as well as a punnet of blueberries. He put these on the table and proceeded to make the tea by dropping tea bags into three mugs and pouring in hot water. I finished with the bread and loaded them onto a plate to bring to the table as well.

The three of us sitting down to breakfast seemed the most natural thing in the world. Colin flipped through the Daily Mail and Owen The Sun and occasionally read out bits of news that were interesting. I read over both their shoulders. There was nothing new in the papers about the nuclear treaty or anything that raised a red flag. Even though it had been a while since I cooked French toast, the two men said it tasted delicious, and proved it by polishing off every morsel.

After we had finished cleaning up the dirty dishes, Colin announced that he had come up with a plan during the night for us to try and counter Alex James. I would work with Owen on a media smear campaign. Owen had managed to gather enough information to raise serious red flags on the safety of the nuclear dumpsite, as well as the possibility that Eceline had not been entirely truthful in their vow to decommission all the warheads before dumping them into the pit. Our job was to make sure the treaty's completion was delayed beyond Dec 21.

Colin, meanwhile, had to go travelling again to try and neutralise the effects of the mind-control drug on world leaders. If Alex James still had control over them, our efforts might create a media and possibly public backlash but the leaders would not agree to a delay. A delay, Colin said, was essential as a lot of Alex James' plan hinged on the earth-sun-galactic alignment on Dec 21.

We set to work. Owen had his contacts in the media industry and I had mine. Well, I had Bella and one or two others in the newspaper business whom I had worked with a very long time ago.

I rang Bella and arranged for a meeting, telling her I had a scoop for her. She was very cooperative once she heard that magic word. I arranged to meet her at a café in town that afternoon.

I arrived before she did and ordered a mocha and chocolate chip muffin. Colin had picked the location. It was a good one – crowded enough that we would not draw attention to ourselves but it was the kind of crowd that minded its own business and we were ensured privacy.

"Ok, what's the scoop?" Bella asked the second she arrived.

I waited till she had settled down and ordered a frappe. "That nuclear treaty," I began. "I know someone who got into the facility and says that it's doomed to fail."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, the way the place is set up, how the warheads are handed over, the protocols aren't right. There are serious lapses in security. Someone wants the place to blow up. And if that dumpsite explodes, it could take a huge chunk of the planet with it."

"These are just wild allegations. Do you have any proof?" she demanded.

I was well prepared for this. I gave her a file containing copies of photos Owen had taken at the site, as well as his Geiger counter readings and death toll among the workers. Also included were the documents Colin's contact had procured for him that dealt with the nuclear launch codes and the seemingly intentional miscommunication about disarming the weapons before sending them to Mirnbligorod.

Bella perused the documents quickly. I wondered what was going through her head, if she would take the bait.

"You know I need to get all this verified. I can't just accept your word. Who is your source?" she finally asked.

"He's a friend I know. He's willing to speak with you on the phone but he wants to remain anonymous," I said.

"If he can't provide me with adequate identification then I'm afraid I can't act on this," Bella said. "It just goes against journalistic principles. I can say the source wishes to remain anonymous, but I have to know who he is. For all I know, he's someone you made up and you're feeding me false data. No offence."

"None taken. But, trust me on this, Bella. The less you know, the safer you are. I know it's asking a lot but it's better if you just played the messenger. You don't want to get too involved," I warned.

She laughed ironically. "Danae, I'm a reporter. It's my job to get involved and dig up things that people would rather keep quiet. But, I must be able to know that what I report is true, and to do that, I have to speak with the person making the allegations."

"I can arrange a phone call. That's all," I negotiated. "Bella, I'm giving you first rights here. I can take this story to another outlet who will believe me. And you know well enough there are papers out there which may not pay as much attention to detail but have been proved right and broke big stories before papers like yours. I'm sure your boss would love it when he finds out someone else broke this story first. I'm sure he'd be extremely happy if he knew you were offered it but turned it down." I took the file back from her and made as if to leave.

That was the sinker. She snatched the file back from me. "Ok, I'll show it to my editors. If they're satisfied, we'll run the story."

We came to agreement on when Owen would call her for an interview. Before Bella left though, she asked me: "Danae, Eceline is doing the world a big favour here. The treaty could stop millions of people from living in the fear of a nuclear holocaust. Why do you want to go big on this? Why bring it all down? Do you have some kind of personal vendetta against the company?"

I considered how to answer her, then said: "Off the record, yes, the treaty is good and I support it in theory. But the way Eceline is carrying it out is all wrong and billions of people could die. They need to be stopped."


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

The media storm hit a few days later. By a lucky coincidence, Owen's media contacts came through around the same time as Bella's piece. It was not as big a splash as we had hoped but there was definitely a seed of doubt being planted. Within the week, the story spread to news agencies worldwide and grew in the retelling as each successive reporter dug up new revelations. It was being called the con of the century now – everyone was wondering how they managed to miss these glaringly obvious missteps in the nuclear treaty.

The United Nations called for a formal inquiry into the terms of the treaty and also insisted on having inspectors go in to evaluate the Mirnbligorod site to ensure safety. Most of the experts called in admitted that there was some truth to the allegations, but more evidence was needed; in the meantime, it would be in everyone's best interest to halt the programme.

But halting the programme had consequences. The North Koreans and the Iranians, already skittish on a good day, were positively threatening to pull out altogether and use their weapons on the United States, whom they blamed as being part of, if not ringleader of, the "conspiracy". They claimed they had been "bewitched" and did not enter the treaty of their own free will. The rest of the world assumed their phrasing was a mistranslation and that they were being over the top as usual.

The fact that at least some of the world leaders were screaming of witchcraft, handing out threats and more or less behaving like their usual selves meant Colin's mission overseas was bearing fruit. Owen and I had not heard from him often – his text messages tended to be short, informing us of his destination and perhaps a target, but no more. Owen said it was not a good sign when Colin was being so curt, and he worried about his friend.

Bella met me about two weeks after I first contacted her, just as the firestorm was at its hottest. She was hysterical. She told me that she had been receiving hate mail, both electronically and in physical form. The hate mail ranged from cranks to death threats and she had reached her limit.

"I know you said danger, but I didn't sign up for this! I don't want to die!" she exclaimed. "These terrorists are trying to kill me just for breaking the story and it's all your fault!"

"Bella, I don't know what to say," I replied. "I'm sorry I asked you to break this story. But you're in it and I can't bring you out. You should try talking to the police. I know someone in the Home Office. She'll help, I know she will."

"I am sick of talking to people you know. That's what got me into this mess in the first place," Bella snapped. "And you are damn right, I'm going to the police and I'm going to tell them everything about you and this mysterious man you put me in touch with. See if I don't get you arrested for having links to terror."

She stormed off, leaving me stunned. I thought she had more guts than this.

"You can't blame yourself," Owen told me later that day after I poured out my encounter to him. We were having Chinese food for dinner together in the office. "Bella is a reporter. If she wants to be one of those reporters who get their names into the history books, she's got to strap on a pair and stick with it. You may have twisted her arm a little in the beginning but she made the choice to run the story. She could have just refused you."

"One thing I don't understand though," I said. "If she's been getting hate mail and death threats, why haven't we? I'm sure Alex James knows by now that we're the ones behind all this."

Owen sighed. He then revealed to me that we had indeed been getting letters, but he had hidden them from me, not wanting to frighten me. We had received lawyers' letters for libel from Eceline, Wild Badger and several government agencies – both local and foreign – as well as hate mail of the kind that Bella had.

"Are we getting in over our heads here?" I asked Owen outright.

"No," he said firmly. "This is just reactions to the media frenzy. It's pretty tame at the moment. I've seen worse and I don't think it'll escalate into anything worse."

"What could be worse?" I asked, out of a sense of morbid curiosity.

"The French Revolution?" Owen answered. "That bad enough for you? I was there. It was a thousand times worse than this. The smallest rumour would spark off a bloodthirsty mob." I did not know whether to believe him or not. I had accepted by now that he was immortal but when he brought up episodes like this, it was still hard to swallow. We fell into a comfortable silence as we focused on eating our dinner.

"This should cheer you up," Owen suddenly said. "Colin sent me a text just now. He said he's on his way back."

"Was he successful?" I asked. His task had been far more difficult and dangerous than ours had been. It had him butting heads directly with Alex James as he attempted to lift the spell Alex had placed on world leaders.

"He said he's done as much as he could," Owen said. "That doesn't sound very positive to me though. We'll just have to wait and see."

When we picked Colin up at Heathrow the next day, it was clear he was not satisfied with his work and something had happened while he was overseas. But he refused to enlighten us. He said he had the most success with the North Koreans, Iranians and Israelis – it had been absurdly easy for him to gain access to their leaders. Probably because they were ever ready to believe the West had been trying to hoodwink them and trust whoever brought them that news. In this case, it was true.

Colin had just returned from Washington where the Secret Service had almost locked him in a lunatic asylum. He admitted that his tactic there could have been better but he had run into obstacles. "Alex James was there, shuttling between Washington and the UN headquarters in New York," Colin said. "And he had them all in his pocket. He was there to thwart me at every stage. I had to spell the Secret Service agents to escape," He said. He sounded very discouraged.

This was likely why Alex James had not retaliated against us – he was busy fighting Colin and the media – a living entity that even Alex could not control entirely. Owen and I were just bit players in this greater game.

I went home that night feeling exhausted. Colin had briefed us fully on his successes and failures and had listened as I reported the work Owen and I had done. He seemed pleased with the media firestorm. Between the three of us, he thought we had probably done enough to avert a nuclear explosion on Dec 21, but still not enough to take down the mastermind Alex James.

When I reached my flat though, I had a funny feeling like something was wrong. But I could not put my finger on it. I rummaged in my bag for my folding knife and held it in my right hand, at the ready. With my left, I clumsily unlocked my front door and opened it, ready to jump at any intruder who might spring out. But nothing happened.

I went inside, turned on the overhead light and went into shock. My flat had been ransacked. Every drawer was turned inside out, every cabinet emptied. The sofa cushions were all over the room, chairs were upturned. From the doorway, I could see a part of my bedroom – clothes were strewn everywhere. My walls looked like they had been splashed with red paint.

My knees grew weak and I sat down on the floor, still unable to believe my eyes. The hysterical terror Bella must have felt began to build in me. I made a quick tour of the house to ensure there was no one still lurking. Returning to the sitting room, I took several deep slow breaths, trying to calm myself down. After I regained control of myself, I rang Owen.

He arrived with Colin within minutes. I was sitting on the floor outside the flat. I was afraid to be alone inside, even though I knew there was nothing to fear. Owen gave me a hug and held me as Colin went inside. I heard him exclaim: "What on earth happened here?" as he entered.

Owen coaxed me back inside the flat. "Do you know who did this?" he asked me. I shook my head. He then looked at Colin.

"Do you want me to find out?" Colin asked.

"How?" I asked.

"The walls. They're like a video recorder and can hold on to images and feelings for a while. I can play them back. But only if you want me to." There was an inflection in his voice that suggested I might not want to know. But I seemed to have never learnt and so I nodded. Colin spread out his arms and muttered something. His eyes flashed gold.

It felt like watching a video on rewind, except the action was happening around us. I watched the two men splashing paint around my flat and messing everything up. They were clearly not burglars. They were not looking for anything either; they were just trying to send me a message. They were telling me to back off.

The images stopped after I watched them pick the lock and break in. There was silence in the flat. I began to shake and my eyes filled with tears. Owen held me tighter. "Danae, it's ok, love. It's over."

"No, it's not," Colin said grimly. His face was full of anger and he looked dangerous. "You think they're going to stop? You think he will? It's time to grow up and face reality, Danae. This is a dangerous world and you have to deal with it. Be glad it's your flat that bore the brunt of his anger. He could have just as easily sent men after you."

That made me shake harder as I remembered my encounter with Alex James in the British Museum. The memory of the sharp cold blade at my throat still terrified me.

"There's no need to be so hard, Colin," Owen argued. "She's just a child."

"She's a grown woman," Colin snapped. "She's got to realise she's come into this danger of her own will and deal with the consequences. We can't take care of her forever."

"That's a fine attitude to have after all we've been through," Owen said. "Stop being so selfish. That's not how we do things."

"No. This is on you, Owen. There is no 'we'. I was against this from the start and you know it. I've said it would all end in tears," Colin ranted.

"Well, instead of 'I told you so', why not try doing something useful, O great and powerful one? Like using your magic to clean up this place or bring Alex James to justice?" Owen demanded.

"Guys, please don't fight," I piped in timidly. I felt like I was stuck between a raging fire and a raging storm. It was an uncomfortable position to be in.

Colin did not reply and just stormed out of the flat. Owen stayed. I did not know what to say and we just stood there awkwardly.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said. "Colin's always had a different approach and view of life than me. It's one argument we've never settled after all these years." He began to pick up debris from the floor. "Do you mind if I stay here tonight?" he asked, not looking at me. "That is, if you're staying. I just thought… Colin needs some space to cool down, you probably don't want to be alone here and I'd prefer if you weren't alone either."

I was worried about Colin. His suddenly explosion startled and frightened me – it was like that first day when he was like a cornered animal. But I supposed Owen knew what was best for his friend in this moment. And he was right; I did not want to be alone in the flat.

"You can stay," I told him. "Please stay."


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Owen helped me clean up the flat. For the next few hours, he worked on the sitting room while I was in the bedroom, picking up my belongings and straightening things out to make the flat look habitable again. It was well past midnight by the time we finished. There had been nothing we could do at the moment about the paint that had been splashed on the walls and dripped onto the floor and furniture. I had locked the front door and wedged a chair under the handle.

"This is better, isn't it?" Owen asked as we stood in the newly cleaned up sitting room and surveyed our work. I had my iPod on and music was emanating from the speakers of the charging dock.

"It looks neater than it normally is," I agreed. Owen had put away stuff that I usually left lying around, but there was no need to tell him that. I would not say no to someone who wanted to clean my flat for me.

We settled next to each other on the sofa, enjoying the ambience. Owen put his arm around me and let me cuddle up against him. It seemed so peaceful after the tumult of the past few weeks.

"You know, I just realised, I know very little about you, Owen," I said conversationally. "And you've got, what, thousands of years of life. It must have been really something."

"1,522 years to be exact," he said. "I was born in the year 490, or thereabouts. I lost count at one point. Does it creep you out?"

"Oddly, no. Not really," I admitted. "Tell me about your family. What was your childhood like?"

He obliged: "My father was a knight. He died when I was just a kid. My mother was left penniless to raise me and my older sister by herself. It was a good childhood I suppose. My mother worked and I ran around with the other boys in the village. She died when I was 16. My sister… well, back then, I hated her. She was all about keeping up appearances and wanting to be nobility again. I didn't agree and we had a falling out. I never really reconciled with her. The last time I saw her, she married a village carpenter and had three children. I don't know what happened to them."

"And what about you? Did you ever start a family of your own?" I asked. I was curious about this – could someone immortal put down roots?

Owen sighed and I thought he was not going to answer. Finally, he said: "I've had many lovers. But I have never settled down in one place for long. You can't. People will start to wonder why you never change, never age. You get very good at disappearing after centuries of practise.

"I did have a real family once upon a time. Back in Camelot," he added. He paused again for a very long time and gave me a squeeze. I wondered what was going through his mind. "Her name was Kaelyn. You remind me of her, a little bit. She was beautiful, brave and spunky. She had golden hair and green eyes. And she was a brilliant swordswoman; beat me practically every time. Arthur used to call her Sir Kay. We had four children together – two girls and two boys. I suppose that was the best time of my life."

"Then what happened?"

"Same thing that happens to everyone I meet," he said darkly. "Well, they had a good life, I suppose. Kaelyn died, far too young. She had magic, almost as powerful as Merlin's, and was trying to lift this immortality curse I'm under. But it was too much for her and she died in the attempt. Till this day, I wish…" he trailed off. I wondered what he wished; that he had not let Kaelyn try to lift the curse? That he had never gone after Colin to try and rescue him?

"Owen, I'm sure it wasn't your fault," I said.

I felt him leaning his head against mine, his breath on my hair. "I know. It's been a long time since then but I still miss her."

"What about your kids? Did you keep in touch with them?"

I sensed Owen smiling. He must have been proud of his children. "Sophia, my younger girl, died young; she was only nine, a victim of a war. I truly believe she could have been somebody, had she lived. She had a certain sparkle in her personality. But those days, it was not unusual for a child to die. My other daughter, Eleanor, she thrived in society. She was like her aunt. Too much so, I think. She married a nobleman from the north. I suppose I have Scottish descendants somewhere, but I've never tried finding them. I never found out how Ellie died.

"As for my sons… well, my elder son never married. His name was Ronan. He was too much like a monk. He loved books and records. His work is among Geoffrey of Monmouth's History of the Kings of Britain. He was in his 70s when he died. Old age and a peaceful death, I hear.

"My younger son, Gareth… I suppose he was destined for a rough life; his birth had been an extremely hard one. He was a good lad, but always getting into the silliest scrapes. You'd have liked him. He was Arthur's heir, you know. That is, before Lucy was born. After that, he was appointed Lucy's protector."

"Who's Lucy?" I asked. The Arthurian legends had never mentioned anyone by that name.

"Arthur's daughter. She was a little darling. Everyone doted on her," Owen explained. "Gareth and Lucy were both executed by Mordred's followers, who wanted to stop them from claiming the throne and becoming a rallying point for the people after Camlann."

"Did you fight at Camlann?"

"Of course I did. I was one of Arthur's knights then. How I fought. We defeated Mordred's forces and won the battle, but it wasn't enough. Arthur and Mordred… Arthur himself had trained Mordred when he was just a young knight. But he betrayed Arthur. And now Arthur is dead but he lives. It's all so unfair."

I sensed that I was dredging up extremely painful memories for him so I tried to steer the conversation to more pleasant topics. "You said you've had lots of lovers. Didn't you have any more children with them?"

"No, and it wasn't for the lack of trying, believe you me," Owen said. "Colin believes the curse may have… ahem… interfered with the equipment, to put it politely."

This was getting awkward and I changed the subject again. "Is Colin really the great wizard Merlin?"

Owen chuckled. "Yes. He is. Or, rather, he was. He doesn't practice as much these days. There's no need to and I have a feeling he doesn't want to."

"Yes, he did mention something about being annoyed by new-age witches," I recalled. Owen laughed. "Can you do magic?" I asked.

"I… have some ability, yes. But nowhere near Colin's level. I just assumed it's something that's rubbed off after all these years. I didn't have a shred of magic before I rescued Colin."

"So, you and Colin have been together for the last 1,500 years?"

"On and off. He's more of a homebody whereas I tend to travel. So, we'd spend some years together. After a while, I'd wander off for a couple more years. But we always get back together in the end. It's inevitable. When you're both cursed to live for eternity, you do learn to live with the other person."

"Were you and Colin friends before the curse?"

"We were. In fact, he used to be my only friend. I lived a rather stupid life back then. I travelled and spent most of my time drunk and wasting my life away in taverns and getting into fights. I guess Colin saved me from myself when he befriended me."

"Has he always been this prickly?"

"No. That's something that makes me sad. I mean, I know people change, and 1,500 years is a lot of time to do it in. He used to be more cheerful and hopeful. Time was when he and I got into such pranks, driving Arthur crazy. I think something died inside of him when Arthur died. Mordred planted a seed of darkness in him then and it's been growing ever since."

"You sound worried."

"He's my friend, Danae. Even until now, he's still the only friend I've got who's going to be there till the end."

"I'm your friend, aren't I?" I asked, turning my head up to look at his face, expecting to see his amused grin. Something had stirred in the depths of my mind, as though a long-forgotten memory was trying to emerge.

I was not expecting to see him wearing such a pained expression. He pulled back his arm and pushed me gently away. "Danae, you can't be my friend."

"Why not?"

"I'm immortal. I don't age or change. I've got too much past and no real future. You deserve someone better than me."

"Owen, that's not what I'm saying."

He did not reply to that but just stated: "It's late. It's been a long day. You should get some rest." His tone implied that the subject was closed and he would not speak more.

I conceded defeat and retreated to my room. He was right; I was exhausted. I was asleep within seconds of my head touching my pillow.

I woke in the middle of the night, hearing music from the sitting room. It was my iPod. I wondered if Owen had fallen asleep while listening and neglected to turn it off. I quietly went to my bedroom door and opened it slowly, looking out to see if the coast was clear.

It was dark in the sitting room, except for the light from the iPod dock and from the corridor outside streaming in through the curtains, which were not drawn. Owen was sitting up on the sofa, so I guessed he was not asleep. He had no pyjamas to change into and had just taken his shirt off. He was looking out the window with an extremely pensive expression.

Again, that forgotten memory stirred in the corners of my mind. I tried hard to remember but it kept slipping away just as I came close. I had the feeling it was something important to do with Owen and I, and it frustrated me that I could not remember. I sat on the floor by my bedroom door, watching him for some time, leaning my head against the doorframe. I wanted to help him so badly that it ached. But he had put up so many walls. I wished he would let me in.

The song changed. Piano music drifted out to the tune of a Christina Perri song. To my surprise, Owen began to sing along, softly and a bit off-key. It was endearing to hear him and, for an unknown reason, I felt as though he were singing to me, that he knew I was there and wanted me to hear him.

_Heart beats fast, colours and promises,_

_How to be brave, how can I love when I'm afraid to fall_

_But watching you stand alone,_

_All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow_

_One step closer_

_I have died everyday waiting for you_

_Darling, don't be afraid,_

_I have loved you for a thousand years._

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

_Time stands still, beauty in all she is,_

_I will be brave, I will not let anything_

_Take away what's standing in front of me_

_Every breath, every hour has come to this_

_One step closer_

_I have died everyday waiting for you_

_Darling, don't be afraid,_

_I have loved you for a thousand years,_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

_And all along I believed I would find you_

_Time has brought your heart to me_

_I have loved you for a thousand years._

_I'll love you for a thousand more._

* * *

_**NOTE: ****The song is A Thousand Years performed by The Piano Guys (I tried to put a youtube link but apparently that's not allowed). Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**  
_


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Owen and I did not talk about what had happened in the night. I think as far as either of us were concerned, we pretended that we did not know the other person had been present at the time. It did feel a little awkward at the breakfast table. Owen barely looked at me and certainly did not speak more than necessary. I was jabbering on about god knows what, trying to make up for the silence. I must have looked like a fool. I certainly felt like one.

It was torture in the train on the way to the office. The office crowd was there and we were pushed together in the carriage. Each time the train jolted and we bumped into each other, he would shy away quickly. Those fleeting moments of touch were both a pleasure and pain. When we alighted at Holloway, it hurt me a little to see that he kept his distance from me, walking at least a few steps apart.

I decided to take things into my own hands, literally. I inched closer to him, taking advantage of the crowd and took hold of his hand. I saw that he was startled and he gave me a look of disbelief. But the important thing was, he did not pull away and we walked hand in hand down the street to the office. He let go of my hand only when we got out of the lift.

Colin was not in the office when we arrived. I hoped he was not still angry. But I did not have much time to worry about him. I had switched on my computer and was faced with dozens of emails from various friends fanning the media firestorm. Everything was going as planned. The nuclear treaty was, for all intents and purposes, over. I did feel a little bit regretful; it had been a good idea after all.

Owen had thawed considerably since the morning and was his usual warm self. He piled on more work for me in the afternoon, asking me to try and locate Alex James. He had been trying to find him all morning, on a hunch this would be important, but had failed.

I used the CCTV network again. Alex James had certainly broken his pattern. There was no sign of him in any of his usual haunts and of his two chauffeurs, one was having a lie in at home while the other was taking a stroll in Green Park while wearing regular clothes – not his work uniform – suggesting that he was clearly off duty.

"Any luck?" Owen asked, leaning over me to look at my computer screen where I had several CCTV feeds running.

"None yet," I said. "It was easy to find him last time but now… either he's been indoors all day or he's not in the city. I'll keep hunting though."

"You do that, love," he instructed. As he began to walk away though, it seemed like he had something on his mind and he paused. "Did you happen to notice Colin anywhere on your feeds?" he asked casually.

"No," I replied. "But I wasn't looking out for him so I might have missed him in the crowd. Why? Is everything ok?"

Owen sighed. "He's not responding to texts or calls. I'm not very sure how angry he really is. I just… you know, wanted to check in with him. Make sure everything's alright."

"I'll look for him," I assured him. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Do you think I'm being an idiot? Getting worried over Colin?" Owen asked. He suddenly looked like a child who was not sure if what he was doing was the right thing.

"No," I told him. "You're his friend and you're just looking out for him. It's natural to be concerned. I think it's sweet."

Owen just smiled and squeezed my shoulder in a friendly gesture.

The next day, on a hunch, I went to the British Museum and snuck into their vaults again. It was still surprisingly easy to get in. They really needed to boost their security system. Even just locking the door would help.

I tried my best to retrace the steps I had taken through the basement maze the last time. The place was still full of dusty old and forgotten artefacts but the wonder was lost. I felt my skin prickling and I half-expected Alex James to jump out at me again and threaten to kill me. At length, I reached the metal shelving where I had last seen that cup – the one Colin had identified as the Cup of Life.

The last time, I had sensed it calling me. This time, there was nothing. The cup was no longer on the shelf. I wondered if I had perhaps taken a wrong turn and gone in the wrong direction. But after wandering around for about half an hour, I came to the conclusion that the cup was gone. Alex James had most likely taken it to a more secure location, now that I had discovered his secret hiding spot. I returned to the office and reported the excursion to Owen.

Three days passed without incident. I would report for work in the morning and see just Owen in the office. We would work and I would keep an eye out for Colin and Alex over the CCTV feeds. By Dec 19, Owen was officially worried. There had still been no word from Colin. Doomsday was coming and we had no plan.

"Owen, do you think Colin's gone after Alex James and the Cup of Life?" I asked. By now, we had accepted that Alex James was no longer in London and was out of our reach.

"I did consider that," Owen said. "I'm trying to figure out where exactly he are. The only thing I've got so far is Scotland. Colin was always much better at this than me. He's the brains of this outfit."

"You think too little of yourself," I chided. I went over to his desk and he showed me a map of Scotland with some points marked out. "What are these sites?"

"Holy sites, places of power," Owen explained. "Scotland is riddled with these ley lines. These spots contain standing stones that mark the stronger points along the lines."

"Why would Alex James be at any of these points?"

"Dec 21 is coming. The galactic alignment, remember? He'll want to be at a place of power so he can harness the earth's energy when the alignment happens. Thing is, I'm not completely sure which place he is yet. There are so many." He was deep in thought by then and I could get nothing more from him other than unintelligible mutters as he thought out loud.

Back home, I busied myself with household chores. It had been a while since I did anything vaguely resembling real housework – the cleaning Owen gave after those intruders broke in notwithstanding. I started a load of laundry, vacuumed and turned on my laptop to read up on holy sites in Scotland. There was a lot of information on the Internet and I just clicked randomly and read whatever looked interesting.

A couple of hours later, with the laundry done, dried and folded, I got ready for bed. I was in the sitting room listening to my iPod when I noticed the shadow of someone pacing in the corridor outside. It was already late and my neighbours, if returning home this late, tended to walk straight to their flats. This was abnormal behaviour. I leapt off the sofa and dug up my folding knife from my bag, holding it at the ready.

I stood behind the front door and pressed my ear up to it, trying to listen to whoever it was outside. He was being quiet, this person, but I thought I could hear his breathing. There was some times, like this one, that I regretted not having a peephole installed.

A loud knock on the door made me yelp in surprise.

"Danae, is that you, love? You listening behind the door again?" Owen's voice sounded from outside.

I closed my folding knife and pulled the door open. "Owen! What the hell are you doing? You scared the crap out of me." It was indeed him, completely dressed in jeans, a tshirt and his leather jacket. He was also carrying an old grey haversack slung over his left shoulder. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I know where Colin is," he said.

I stood aside to let him come in. He did not put down his bag or sit, as I expected him to, but stood in the hallway looking awkward. "Where is he?" I asked.

"Loch Moy," he answered.

"And how do you know this?"

"It's one of the most sacred sites in Scotland. And I also managed to retrieve his Internet browser's history. He was looking it up and he also booked a flight to Inverness before he disappeared," he said. "Alex James also owns a villa on an island in the middle of the loch. If he was following Alex, then it's the most logical place for him to go."

I gave him the once over, taking in his attire and his bag and drew the only conclusion I could: "So you're going after him?"

"Yes," Owen answered. He then shuffled awkwardly again, looking down at the floor. "Would you like to come?"

I wondered what had happened in the last few hours to make him turn frosty again. "Would you like me to?" I asked, guardedly.

Relief washed over his features. "Yes, I'd like that very much," he said, grinning widely.


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

I changed out of my pyjamas and into a more serviceable and warm shirt and jeans. Owen told me to pack lightly – just a change of clothes and would probably suffice. He did not say it but we were both aware that Dec 21 was looming and we might not need any clothes after that date if we did not manage to find and stop Alex James from carrying out his plan to destroy the earth.

Owen had booked two seats on an overnight train to Inverness. From there, we would change trains to get to the small village of Moy, which was close to the loch in question.

We rushed to get to Euston Station to catch the last train out. As sleeping berths had to be reserved beforehand, we only managed to get seated tickets. We boarded the quiet train just in time. The other passengers looked sleepily at us as we made our way to our seats.

I was instantly apprehensive. I had never been on an airplane before but I had seen pictures and the seats on the train reminded me of that. There was a little bit more leg room than on a plane but not much. "We're gonna be spending the next nine hours on this?" I asked Owen, doubts forming in my mind.

"We'll make do," he said. He took my bag and stowed it in an overhead luggage rack before putting his next to mine. I took the window seat. The seat itself was not uncomfortable per se, but I was not used to travelling and so felt uncomfortable. Owen however, seemed like a seasoned traveller and settled down fairly quickly.

I must have dozed off at one point for I awoke to find myself leaning on something firm and warm and with a blanket draped over me. I cracked open my eyes and saw that I was nestled in the crook of Owen's shoulder and he had his arm draped around me. Without moving too much, I looked to see if he was sleeping.

He was not. He had his feet propped up against the seat in front of him and was holding an thick paperback book open in his other hand. I studied his profile – he would probably have been a quite the lady killer if he kept his beard in a more kempt state; he had a profile that would have inspired artists. He kept his eyes on the book, apparently not noticing that I was awake. The more I watched him, the more I felt that nagging feeling of forgetting something important again. The memory seemed just within grasp but kept slipping away just as I thought I had it.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

He smiled and turned his head to look at me. "Promise you won't laugh?" he said. I promised. "It's the bible."

"The bible? I didn't know you were religious."

"I'm not. I just… it's just one of those books, you know?" he looked a little bit embarrassed and looked like he was going to close the book. "Aren't you tired? You were sleeping quite soundly."

"I'll drop off again in a minute," I assured him. "Read to me."

"I'm not at a part that's appropriate for a bedtime story. You might get nightmares," he warned.

"Go on anyway. Your voice is soothing," I urged. I half thought he would refuse but he just opened the book and began to read out loud in a soft, gentle voice:

_"'At that time shall arise Michael, the great prince who has charge of your people. And there shall be a time of trouble, such as never has been since there was a nation till that time; but at that time your people shall be delivered, every one whose name shall be found written in the book. And many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. And those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the firmament; and those who turn many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever. But you, Daniel, shut up the words, and seal the book, until the time of the end. Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall increase.'_

_"Then I, Daniel, looked, and behold, two others stood, one on this bank of the stream and one on that bank of the stream. And I said to the man clothed in linen, who was above the waters of the stream, 'How long shall it be till the end of these wonders?'_

_"The man clothed in linen, who was above the waters of the stream, raised his right hand and his left hand towards heaven; and I heard him swear by him who lives for ever that it would be for a time, two times, and half a time; and that when the shattering of the power of the holy people comes to an end all these things would be accomplished._

_"I heard but I did not understand. Then I said, 'O my lord, what shall be the issue of these things?'_

_"He said, 'Go your way, Daniel, for the words are shut up and sealed until the time of the end. Many shall purify themselves, and make themselves white and be refined; but the wicked shall do wickedly; and none of the wicked shall understand; but those who are wise shall understand. And from the time that the continual burnt offering is taken away, and the abomination that makes desolate is set up, there shall be a thousand two hundred and ninety days. Blessed is he who waits and comes to the thousand three hundred and thirty-five days. But go your way till the end; and you shall rest, and shall stand in your allotted place at the end of the days.'" (Daniel 12: 1-13)_

I slept surprisingly well. I do not remember if I had dreamt of the apocalypse. Owen was right though; that passage was far from bedtime material. It made me wonder why he was reading it then. I awoke to the sounds of the train approaching Edinburgh Station. I had no idea if Owen got any sleep at all that night but he was currently nowhere in sight. I felt a little bit stiff, and my shoulder, though more or less healed from its dislocation, ached. I set to stretching and massaging it as best I could.

"Good morning, Danae," Owen greeted cheerfully, showing up from behind with two styrofoam cups of tea in his hands and a plastic bag hooked around his wrist. "All right?"

"Good morning," I said. The sight of him filled me with happiness and he also smiled at my enthusiasm. "My shoulder's aching a little but I'm fine."

"Brought you some breakfast from the dining car," Owen said, handing me a cup. From the plastic bag he took out two ham and egg sandwiches and a packet of chocolate biscuits. "We've still got a couple of hours to go," he informed me.

I was mildly dismayed to hear that but took it in my stride. After all, my apprehensions about the journey had thus far been proved to be unfounded. I could surely survive a few more hours. Furthermore, as I had never been to Scotland before, the scenery was distraction enough. It was beautiful to look outside. I loved seeing the mountains and the little lakes we passed by. It was like being in a picture postcard.

Inverness was cold when we got off the train. I had brought my warmest coat but it was still chilly. Owen hurried me to catch our connecting train to the small village of Moy. This connecting train was not as comfortable, by comparison. The countryside grew gloomier as time passed, with the pine trees heavily laden with snow adding to the bleakness of the surroundings.

I was not sure if I was glad or not when we finally arrived at Moy Station. It was tiny, more of a halting place than an actual station. The two of us were the only ones to alight the train and drew a couple of stares as we exited.

"I guess we walk from here, love," Owen said. He took my hand and led the way.

There was no village to speak of, just a small cluster of houses by the train tracks and scattered along the expressway. The loch dominated the snowy landscape. I could not understand why anyone would live in such an isolated area.

It was quiet and cold when we got to the main road. The expressway was freezing as there were no trees or shrubs to block the wind. I began to shiver. Owen noticed and put his arm around me, drawing him closer to him. It helped but not much. "You'll feel better if you keep moving, love," he said, half pulling me along.

We followed the road and walked down nearly a kilometre. We did not see anyone along the way, though we passed by a few houses. Some had signs indicating that they doubled up as bed and breakfasts. I suppose the business would be better in the summer.

Owen turned and led us down a long driveway. Trees lined the road now and provided a welcome buffer from the wind. There was a church at the bottom of the driveway. Two buildings, possibly the community centre, surrounded the main square on the left. Several cars were parked in front of a building and we saw that there were lights on inside. Perhaps some function was underway. I looked longingly at it, wishing I could be inside and warm up.

On the right was an enclosed churchyard. Gravestones poked up out of the snow like islands and the church proper stood over them. It was a small country church, but looked deserted at this time.

We did not stop but kept moving on past the churchyard and into the trees beyond it. The silence was disconcerting to me, a city girl. The only sound was our breathing and the crunching of snow underfoot. There was no sound of woodland animals or other people. It was all just bleakness.

At length, the thick cluster of tall firs gave way to smaller trees that were bare and covered in snow. These too petered off as we approached the water's edge. The loch looked intimidating. The waters were black. We could see the island from the shore. It was not big – probably just about 150m across and 300m long. But it might as well have been the moon; there was no way for us to cross the loch to get to it. In summer, we could probably swim across but now in the depths of winter, jumping into the water would mean freezing our extremities off in a second.

"So, what now?" I asked.

Owen had been studying the situation intently, his face frowning. "Now, we go back and see if we can't find someone with a boat," he suggested.

The way back was slightly easier as we could walk in the path we had created. We went up to the community centre and found that it was not a function that was going on; it was just a small gathering in what could possibly pass as a cafeteria. Plastic tables and chairs were scattered randomly around the room and rearranged to suit whoever was there. At one end was a coffee machine, pump jugs and Styrofoam cups in plastic bags. A handful of the locals, mostly elderly men, were seated and chatting. They all looked up when we got there.

"Hi," Owen greeted cheerfully. "My friend and I were walking and got off the track a little. Is it ok if we stop here for a bit?"

"Help yourselves," one of the men said. We both sat at a table next to where the locals were. The man held up a thermos. "Tea? Don't bother with those," he inclined his head in the direction of the self-service station. "They're empty. Always are, except on Sundays."

"Right, well, I won't say no to a nice hot cuppa," Owen said. He went over to get cups. "Danae, do you want some, love?" he asked me when he got back.

"God, yes," I replied. The locals laughed and poured out the steaming hot tea for us. I wrapped my hands around the cup and let the steam warm my face.

"You Irish?" another local asked Owen.

"Originally. I live down in London now," Owen replied. "My name's Owen, by the way. This is Danae."

The men introduced themselves and shook hands with us. "So what brings you two down here?" a man called Kevin asked.

I was getting comfortable and let Owen do all the talking. He shrugged. "Not much. Taking a quick getaway from London. That island is pretty fascinating, isn't it? Out there in the middle of the loch."

"Fascinating enough," Kevin said. "It's private land though. Some chap from London bought it years ago and built himself a house there. Monstrosity if you ask me. Spoiling the look of the place."

"Does he live there, this chap?"

"Nae. He pops in and out but doesn't spend enough time to live there. Odd business, if you ask me," Kevin shook his head disapprovingly. "That island's always been a little odd and liable to turn anyone who lives there funny."

"I read it's one of those sacred holy sites," Owen commented.

"Aye, that it is," Kevin said. "Centre of all the holy sites in Scotland, if you believe what they say. They erected that needle in the 1800s, wasn't it? Just to mark the sweet spot, right in the middle of the island."

"Is there any way over to the island? I thought it might be interesting to take a look at that obelisk," Owen asked. "Bit of local history after all."

"Well, I don't know," Kevin said. "I did say the island's private land."

"Isn't there a fellow out there now?" another man named Blair offered.

"Aye, you're right. I forgot about him," Kevin agreed.

"Another man out there?" Owen asked.

"Aye. Arrived by car from Inverness yesterday and went straight out. There was a boat waiting for him. Come to think of it, that owner chap was here too. Just a couple of days ago, I think it was," Kevin trailed off into the thoughtful reverie the elderly are wont to.

"And that man who came yesterday?" Owen prompted.

"Don't know," Kevin admitted. "Tall, skinny chap. Very pale, piercing blue eyes. Don't know what to make of him."

Blair suddenly gave a jump that startled everyone. "Speak of the devil!" he exclaimed, pointing out the open window that faced the churchyard. "There he is now."

We looked up. Coming down the road, bundled up in numerous layers of clothes and wearing a beanie hat was Colin.


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

My first instinct was to jump up and run out to meet Colin. But Owen stepped on my foot under the table and stopped me. I looked at him in confusion and he shook his head very discreetly.

"So, do you think if we wanted to go over to the island, that would be the right man to ask?" Owen asked.

"I guess so," Blair answered. "He didn't look like he's going anywhere. Probably just getting stuff from his car." He nodded at the window overlooking the car park. There was a small grey Ford parked across the square and it looked like Colin was making a beeline towards it.

Owen downed his tea in one then stood, "Well, gentlemen, thank you for the lovely tea."

"Are you going already?" one of the other men asked. "It's not often we get new company like yourselves. We were just starting to enjoy ourselves."

"I want to go catch that chap before he runs off again," Owen said, indicating Colin. "But I did enjoy the company, didn't you, love?'' he asked me.

I felt put in the spot. "Oh yes," I answered. "My first time up to Scotland and it's been great so far. Really, thank you."

We hurried through the goodbyes and then left as quickly as we could and not look like we were running. Now that Owen had set us up to be strangers to Colin, I was not sure how we were going to handle this meeting. Those men were surely going to be watching from inside.

Luckily, Owen was well experienced in acting. He strode up to Colin, penning him in and greeted. "Afternoon sir, my name's Owen, this is Danae."

Colin looked up, realised we were putting on a ruse and tentatively put out his hand. "Colin," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, we wanted to talk to you about that island there," Owen replied. He aligned his body and gestured at the island. As he did so, he turned his back to the community centre. Colin and I did the same. In a lower voice, he hissed: "Col, what the hell? You don't just disappear like this, not in the middle of a case."

"Yeah, well, you seemed to have other things on your mind. And you didn't seem to have any difficulty finding me," Colin snapped back.

"Col, you know full well this is my mission too. You think I wouldn't do what I have to when the time comes?" Owen asked.

Colin's eyes flicked towards me. "Why did you bring her?"

Owen hesitated. I was curious to know the answer to that question too. So far, I felt just like a piece of luggage than a functioning member of the team. "If you think I would leave her alone in London after what happened, you've got another think coming."

"London is the safest place for her right now. He's not there."

"Guys, please don't fight," I pleaded. "Colin, if you want me to leave, I can leave. I'll just catch the next train back to London. It's no big deal."

"No. It is," Owen interjected. "Col, you're overreacting."

"Oh really?" Colin challenged. His voice dropped even lower and I had to strain to hear him. "And when all this is over, you think you can just let her go? Owen, start thinking with your brain. You know full well what happens when you get this serious over a girl. It never turns out well."

"And that's my problem."

"No it's not. Because at the end of the day, I have to stick around and put you back together. It's happened before and it's happening again right now."

So, this was what it was all about. Colin was afraid Owen was falling in love with me and that I would end up breaking his heart because I was mortal and he was not.

"And I will cross that bridge when I get to it," Owen insisted. "Now is not the time for this, Colin. Alex has got the Cup of Life and is going to destroy the world tomorrow. Are we working together on this or not?"

Colin appeared to have come to this realisation too. "Fine. Truce till tomorrow is over," he agreed. He and Owen shook hands, then he shook hands with me too. "I'm sorry you got caught up in our drama, Danae," he said. "Don't worry. After tomorrow, we'll be out of your life."

"Assuming there's still a day after tomorrow," I said. "So what's the plan?"

"I've been over to the island," Colin reported. "There's no sign of Alex or the Cup. Yes, I figured that he was going to take the Cup and run, especially when he knows you've seen it, Danae."

"The locals said he was here a few days ago," Owen pointed out.

"He was. That's how I tracked him here," Colin said. "He was only at the house a couple of hours. He left under the cover of darkness. I couldn't follow him. I have no idea where he is now. I was just going to drive around a bit and see if anything hits me."

"Could we go over to the island?" I asked. "I have this feeling we can find clues."

"This isn't a treasure hunt, Danae," Colin sighed. "There are no clues, X doesn't mark the spot."

"She's right though," Owen agreed. "Maybe with fresh pairs of eyes, we might find something that can at least point us in his general direction."

Colin sighed again. "Fine. I've got a boat, we can take that."

His boat turned out to be a small ancient rowing boat. He said he found it but his slightly shifty look at Owen suggested a less legal method to obtaining this boat. But I was not worried on that score. No one in his right mind would want to pursue someone who stole this boat. It looked like a glorified raft tied together with dental floss.

"Is it safe?" I asked apprehensively. I was extremely reluctant to step onto this death trap. It did not look like it could bear the weight of all three of us together.

"Relax. I won't let it sink," Colin assured. Owen had already climbed aboard and held out a hand to me. I supposed that if he trusted Colin, I could too.

I did not so much clamber on board as take a step then stumble and fall almost flat on my face. I probably would have done so if Owen had not been on hand to catch me. "Careful there, love," he said as he helped me to my feet and held on to me. "Don't want to fall in."

The boat pitched and swayed as it made its journey across the loch. Owen held on tightly to my arm to help me keep my balance along the way. I was glad when the boat finally landed on the island.

The sun was beginning to set and I could feel the chill from the water creeping through my body. Colin pulled the boat up, out of the water and then led the way inland. It was not an easy walk through the deep snow and I struggled to keep up with the two men. After a few minutes, we passed the obelisk in the centre of the island.

"What is this?" I asked. I had heard it being mentioned earlier but had not paid attention.

"It was erected in 1824 to commemorate Sir Aeneas Mackintosh. This area was the chief residence of the Mackintosh clan," Owen explained. "Also, the key sacred sites in Scotland form a pentagram pattern with this island right at the middle. I suppose this obelisk would be the focal point of it all."

"And Alex's house is over there," Colin pointed to a modest-sized mansion just a stone's throw from the obelisk. "It was built on the remains of the old clan residence." It was not the monstrosity I had imagined and looked rather pleasant actually.

Colin strode right up to the door and opened it. Either Alex James never bothered with security or Colin was an expert burglar. Once inside, he pressed some switches and a generator started up with a rattling groan, settling down into a low hum. At least we would have heating and lighting.

The house was smaller than it looked on the outside. There was a central hallway that led to a kitchen at the back, a dining room on the right and a sitting room on the left. A study and a library room also lined up along the hall.

Off to the left was a spiral staircase leading upstairs. Colin said there were four bedrooms up there, all very well furnished. It seemed Alex James sometimes entertained visitors here. It was unlikely that he rented out the place. I wandered from room to room, seeing if anything leapt out at me. Owen did the same but he spent more time actually searching and looking.

Outside, it had begun to snow and the light was fading fast. It seemed that we would be here for the night. Colin seemed to have been resigned to this for he was in the kitchen, looking through the contents of the refrigerator. Somehow he managed to cobble up enough ingredients for a simple vegetable soup. There was some slightly stale bread to go with it.

"Did you find anything?" he asked when we gathered in the kitchen for dinner.

"He's obsessed with sacred sites and ley line stuff," I said. I had found numerous books on the subject in the library – both by obscure and popular writers. The library was also decorated with black and white prints of stone circles and other related monuments. "He had a map of Scotland out so I suppose he's still in the area and not gone off to Timbuktu."

"I saw that map," Owen interjected. "He's got some places circled and he drew in the pentagram and the ley lines. I think… if he's got a house here, in one of the most holy sites, but isn't here himself, then he's got to be somewhere else that possibly has more meaning to him. I've been researching sacred sites cos he's going to want to be in a place of power when the galactic alignment happens tomorrow. I think he's at Schiehallion."

Colin smacked his forehead. "Schiehallion! Why didn't I think of that? Owen you're a genius!"

"And for those of us who aren't genuises?" I asked quizzically.

Owen turned to me to explain: "It's a mountain about 60 miles from here. It's at the meeting point of three key ley lines and is considered the geographical centre of Scotland. It's supposedly one of the trinity of holy mountains in the bible – Mount Moriah, Mount Sinai and Mount Zion."

"Owen, please. Alex won't care about holy mountains in the bible," Colin pointed out.

"I was just telling Danae for general information purposes," Owen refuted. "Anyway, there's stronger evidence, even in the druid tradition. Schiehallion is home to the Fortingall yew tree, which is the oldest tree in Europe, supposedly 5,000 years old. For a druid, the yew is seen as an immortal tree, a tree of life and knowledge. What was that poem you showed me once, Col? About the holy Mount Zion?"

"Here druid priests their altars placed, and sun and moon adored; a tree the sacred yew, symbol of immortality beside the altar grew," Colin quoted.

"You think Alex has set up some kind of druid shrine on Schiehallion?" I clarified.

"It's entirely plausible," Owen said. "Translated from the Gaelic, the name means Fairy Hill. That suggests it was once a gateway to Other worlds. And it's a place of power, no doubt. It's our best bet that he's there."

Colin agreed. "The solstice is at 11.12am. 60 miles, you said, Owen? It should take us a couple of hours to get there, assuming the traffic is on our side. We should leave at dawn."


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

I found myself a bedroom that I liked and settled in. I did feel a little nervous treating Alex James' house as a hotel but it was a cosy little room with white walls, an antique iron bed frame and a flowery pastel yellow comforter. The windows had light day curtains and heavier pale green drapes, which I pulled shut over the glass-panelled window. I wondered who Alex brought to stay in this room – it was far too sweet and feminine to be for him; I had not thought that he had that kind of tendencies.

I climbed into the bed and fluffed up the down pillows. It was warm and comfortable and I felt myself getting drowsy.

I would have fallen asleep if not for the knock at my door. "Come in," I called.

The door opened and Owen poked his head round. "Hi, love. I just wanted to check if you're doing ok," he said.

"I am," I answered. "Why don't you come on in? We can talk for a bit."

Owen considered it for a moment then came in. He sat down on the bed facing me and leant against the bed frame. "This is a very cosy room," he commented. "Mine isn't half as nice as this."

"You can stay here if you like," I said teasingly.

Thankfully, Owen did not react to my indiscretion. "What do you want to talk about, love?" he asked. "Is something bothering you?"

"Not particularly," I said. "You know, when you first hired me, you said this was going to be a deal until Dec 21."

Owen looked a little confused at this and it took a few seconds before he remembered. "Yes, I said that, didn't I?"

"You did," I confirmed. "And well… tomorrow's Dec 21."

"Yes it is," he said.

I was feeling frustrated. I was not sure if he was genuinely not getting what I was trying to say or if he was just pretending. "What I'm trying to say is, what happens after tomorrow? Are you going to just hand me a cheque and say goodbye?"

Owen sighed. "Honestly, love, I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. You know it for yourself, there may not be a Dec 22."

"Right. So I take that as I'll be jobless on Dec 22," I concluded. This sometimes worked and employers rehired me for another short stint.

Unfortunately, it did not work now. "Danae, I wish I could say that you don't have to worry about your job. But I really can't. Me and Colin… it's complicated. I truly don't know what's going to happen."

"Do you think you'll kill Alex James?" I asked.

"The thought has crossed my mind," Owen said. "It's a rare opportunity – when we have him and the Cup within grasp and the chance to end this rivalry. I don't think we can neutralise him so killing him may be the only solution."

"You don't seem like a killer," I observed.

"I was a knight, remember? Over thousands of years, I think it's safe to say I've killed my share of people," Owen said.

"Recently?"

He grinned. "Even if I did, you'll never get me to confess," he teased.

"Owen, have you ever thought what you'd do if you were given the chance to lift this immortality curse?" I asked.

He grew serious. "Yes, we have. We don't know what might happen but we've come up with three possible conclusions. One, we turn mortal and live out the rest of our lives then die. Two, we die immediately and turn to dust, like that chap in the Indiana Jones movie. Three, we choose to remain immortal; but that's a very remote possibility. And quite impossible though. Lifting the curse would take an awesome lot of power. Colin doesn't possess that much. He's tried but it didn't work."

"How about you? Do you have magic?"

"You've asked me this before," Owen noted. "Why are you asking again? Have you forgotten what I said already?"

I felt uncomfortable at his retort. "No reason, really. It's just… After Colin lifted that memory spell Alex put on me, it became easier for me to remember things."

"Remember things?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's… You know when you get this feeling that you've forgotten something? Like you aren't quite sure if you dreamt it or it really happened?"

"I've known it to happen."

"It was like that with me for a while. It's very annoying," I said. I was not sure how to broach the subject I wanted to. The fact was, I thought I remembered now what I had forgotten. But I was afraid to bring it up with Owen. I was afraid he would turn cold against me again.

"Tell me about it," Owen agreed with a chuckle. "Nothing worse than trying to remember but not being able to. And when you actually do remember, it's just some little thing that you can't believe you forgot in the first place. Like going out to the store and forgetting why you went there." I had a feeling he too was trying to avoid the subject.

"Right. No, that's not it. I… Um…" I hesitated. I took a deep breath, deciding to bite the bullet. "Owen, are you in love with me?" I asked.

His eyes narrowed and he scrutinised me with a piercing look. "What makes you think that?" he asked guardedly.

"The way you and Colin were arguing about it in the car park just now," I said. "And… when I was in the hospital after dislocating my arm, I'm sure you said you loved me. I don't know how but I think you made me forget afterwards. Did you?" Owen turned and looked at the floor. He looked guilty. "So you did do it," I concluded. "Why?"

"If you can remember what happened, you'd know why," he said.

"You said you were afraid to love me," I answered. "Why?"

"It doesn't matter," he said softly. "Nothing can come of this. You heard Colin. It'll all end in tears."

"It doesn't have to," I said. I reached out and touched his face, gently turning it to face me. "Owen, you're a good man. You deserve to be happy and be loved. I know falling in love can be really scary. But, you know, they say what's important is that you have loved and were loved in return."

I felt like I was lapsing into nonsense. Once I start quoting lines from romantic movies I know I have reached a good stopping point. To his credit, Owen looked like he was listening to everything I said.

"Are you saying you love me back?" he asked. His eyes searched mine and I saw vulnerability in them. He was handing me his soul then, even if he did not say so or refused to admit it. And I was all too willing to take it.

"Yes, I suppose I am," I answered. "I love you, Owen. You don't have to be afraid with me. Not ever."

He smiled a small smile. I could not tell if he was happy or not. He took my hands, brought them to his lips and kissed them. This was such a courtly, gentlemanly gesture that I giggled a little. I crawled out from under the covers and leaned in to him. He touched my waist and guided me closer to him. We had physical contact and hugged each other before but this felt different.

When we kissed, it was like nothing I had ever experienced. Sure, I had kissed guys before – ranging from gangly teenage classmates to amorous co-workers and people I met in pubs when I was drunk. But this was different. Electric. I felt my heart doing a little celebratory dance.

Owen pulled me to him so I was practically lying on top of him. He was kissing me with an urgent passion, as though I were a dream that might fade away too soon. I followed his lead. I knew then that I would fight tooth and nail to be with him.

I reached to his waist and slipped my hands under his shirt. His body felt firm and warm. I felt him shudder as my cool hands touched him. He broke away from the kiss and gently pulled my hands out from under his shirt. He leaned in and our foreheads touched. His eyes were still closed but I felt him breathing me in, his breaths coming in long deep sighs. "Not now, love," he whispered.

"Tonight's the longest night of the year," I said. "We've got time."

"Not now," he repeated firmly.

He stroked my face tenderly and kissed me again – a short one this time – then pulled away. He looked sad. Not the kind of sad like when men walk away from sex; sad like grief and feeling the helpless of knowing that the moment would not last forever, and that all things must come to an end and fade away.

"Owen, what's wrong?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing's wrong," he said. "Don't worry about me." He stood and helped me get back under the covers. When he saw that I was laying comfortably, he tucked me in and kissed me on the forehead. He crossed the room back to the doorway and flicked the switch to turn off the lights. My last sight of him was his figure silhouetted in the doorway. "Sweet dreams, love," he said softly before shutting the door.


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

I awoke to Colin's loud knocking on the door at 6am. I was feeling so warm and comfortable in this bed that I did not want to get up. But Colin insisted and kept nagging me until I was awake, changed and down in the kitchen where Owen was presiding over bowls of cereal and mugs of hot tea. It was pitch black outside and I felt the chill and heard the whistle of the wind when I stood close to the windows.

"Good morning, love," Owen greeted. He passed me a mug of tea, brushing his fingers against mine as he did so. I felt myself blushing like a schoolgirl. Colin gave us a disapproving look but said nothing.

It was a quiet kitchen through breakfast. Colin finished his extremely quickly and went outside to prepare the boat, causing a blast of frigid air to blow in when he opened to door. He said he would meet us at the place where we had tied up the boat. I shivered involuntarily at the cold and made a mental note to put on every piece of clothing I had with me, namely, one pair of jeans, my pyjama shorts and tshirt, my woollen turtleneck and coat. I doubted if it was enough.

Owen seemed to have been thinking the same thing for he asked me if I had warm enough attire, offering to lend me his own leather jacket.

"If I take your jacket, what will you do?" I asked.

"I'm immortal. The cold is nothing to me," he said.

"Must be nice, to not feel the cold." I grumbled.

"I do feel the cold," he corrected. "And it's very uncomfortable. It's just that if I catch pneumonia, I won't die of it. Unlike you."

"I will be fine," I assured him.

I regretted not taking up his offer once we got outside. The wind was still blowing and it was starting to snow. I had never been in such cold weather before and I shivered violently, unable to move from the shaking. Owen immediately came up and put his leather jacket on me, still warm from his body heat, and wrapped his arms around me, using his own body to try to block the wind. The walk to the boat seemed twice as long as yesterday.

The boat also looked twice as treacherous. Even Owen seemed apprehensive. "Are you sure this thing can sail?" he asked Colin.

"It will sail," Colin said firmly. "I will make it do so."

Something in his tone suggested that he was not talking about his expert seamanship. Owen helped me on board and held on to me. The boat was pitching like a wild horse. Falling into the loch right now would be deadly.

Colin stood at the back of the boat and stretched out his right hand. In a commanding voice, he intoned a sentence in a language I did not understand but gave me goosebumps that had nothing to do with the weather. His eyes flashed golden, flaring up for a second and piercing the darkness. When that happened, a kind of pale white mist surrounded the boat and we started moving smoothly across the water. This was the first time I had seen Colin do this kind of magic and, combined with the wildness of the environment at the moment, it frightened me. I looked up at Owen. He did not seem worried at all; probably he was used to Colin's power by now.

We reached the shore without incident and hurried into the trees. It was slightly warmer there as the trees blocked the worst of the wind. Colin had a torch and so led the way, using magic to break an easy path through. I followed in his wake, with Owen close behind me. I saw him hugging himself and rubbing his arms, and heard his teeth clattering, but when I tried to return him his leather jacket, he adamantly refused.

The churchyard was terrifying in the dark. Colin had swept the torch in that direction once. The strong beam of light had illuminated the gravestones for a second and set free all the ghosts and demons of my imagination. I kept my eyes resolutely fixed on Colin's back and did not look over at the churchyard again.

Colin's car was covered in a layer of snow. We dusted it off as best we could, leaving our hands cold, wet and numb. The car was cold when we climbed in. Colin turned on the heater and I insisted that Owen sit up front so he could warm up. His hands and face felt like icicles and he was clearly fighting hard (but failing) to stop himself from shivering. It grew warmer when the heater finally got started and the body heat from the three of us filled the car. The windows began to fog up a little. Colin got out to wipe them clear then started the engine and drove out to the main road.

It was a three-hour drive to Schiehallion. The road was empty but Colin had to drive slowly due to the snow and the weather. The countryside flashed by and the sky grew lighter as the sun slowly rose. I felt drowsy as I stared out the window. Eventually, I decided to give in to sleep, and stretched out across the backseat to doze.

I awoke to Owen shaking me by the shoulder. "We're here, love," he said. I felt stiff from the drive but got up quickly. We had parked on the side of the road, on the back of the mountain, the side where few tourists and day trippers came. The mountain was only about 1,000m high but from our angle at its foot, it looked impossibly large and forbidding. It was also covered in a blanket of white snow.

I was not sure if it was the after effects of Colin's magic but I felt a tingling in the air and a sense of anticipation. I could well believe that this place was sacred.

Colin turned to me and asked: "Is there any use at all in asking you to stay here and keep out of it?"

I glared at him. "I dare you to," I challenged.

He rolled his eyes but said nothing. He got out of the car and stood looking up at the mountain. Owen and I joined him seconds later. "He's here. I can sense him," Colin said.

"Are you jeopardising the mission by being here?" I joked.

Colin looked at me quizzically for a moment, then understood the reference. "Star Wars? Really, Danae?" he asked sarcastically.

"Just trying to lighten up the atmosphere," I retorted. "Owen, back me up."

"It is a bit funny," Owen agreed.

Colin snorted and led the way forward quickly and up the slope. We were about an hour away from the solstice and time was ticking. The air here was marginally warmer but it was still painful and burned our lungs as we struggled up the snowy slope.

At length, we came to a cave opening. Colin strode in unconcernedly. I was worried in case there were wild animals hibernating inside that we might be disturbing. It was cool and dry and very quiet inside.

"I never knew there were caves here," I said softly to Owen who had fallen in step beside me.

"They're called the hollow hills. There are a lot in Wales, though most of them have caved in and become blocked over the years," Owen said. "They're believed to be portals to other worlds, and shrines for gods. 'Magic is the door through which mortal man may sometimes step, to find the gates in the hollow hills, and find himself through into the halls of that other world,'" he quoted. I had a tingly feeling after he said that, like his words had stirred up something in the air and truly opened a portal to another world.

The cave grew narrower until it became a tunnel that twisted sharply at times but always sloped gently upwards. At length, we came to a crossroads. There were three separate openings before us. I knew exactly what was going to happen next.

"So, we split up from here?" I asked. I was not sure if I wanted to know the answer.

Colin handed me a torch. "Best way for us to flush him out. We've all got our mobile phones, right? We can keep in contact with those." He chose the leftmost tunnel and plunged into its depths.

"Do you think you'll be ok on your own?" Owen asked me. He looked worried.

I was afraid but I did not want him to see it. In any case, this was something that we needed to do. If Owen did not take his passage and came with me, and it turned out that his was the passage that led to Alex James, then it would be disastrous and I would never forgive myself for being the cause of the end of the world. "I'll be fine," I assured him. I said it a little louder than necessary, more for my own benefit than his.

He handed me a hunting knife and kissed me. "Be safe, love," he said. He pulled out a little penlight from his pocket, took the middle passage and vanished into the darkness.

"Well, just me now," I said to myself. Taking a deep breath, I took a step into the right-hand side passage. When nothing assaulted me, I took another step and then another. The going got easier and I became more used to the environment.

The torch was strong but it did not help much in brightening the gloomy darkness in the tunnel. My boots sounded all too loud against the rocky floor and I clutched the knife tightly, ready for anything.

The tunnel led to a chamber, then continued on to another tunnel and another chamber. I had an uneasy feeling. The path was far too straight. There were no more turns or openings or anything; it just went on in the series of tunnels and small chambers. Though I saw nothing out of the ordinary, I could not help but feel like I was being herded. I sensed that the path was being chosen for me. Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, it would look as though an opening suddenly closed off, preventing me from going that way.

I took out my mobile phone, wanting to call Owen and hear his comforting voice, on the pretext of getting an update. But there was no signal. The phone was useless in here. Evidently, none of us had thought that being underground would affect the signal. When I realised this, I began to panic a little. I had not thought about how far underground I was but suddenly the only thing I could think about was that I really did not want to die alone and trapped underground.

I began to run, surrendering to whatever power was choosing the path for me. True enough, even though I ran fast and without looking to see where I was going, I did not trip or hit any walls. Eventually, fresh air and sunlight assaulted me and I emerged into a huge chamber. There was an opening high up in the rock wall that let in the air and light. The light shone down to a yew tree in the centre of the chamber.

The tree was ancient. Even I, who knew nothing about trees, could see that. It was not a tall tree but it was wide. It's branches spread out in all directions, almost forming a ceiling to the chamber. Its roots also crept through the floor of the chamber. Under the tree was a stone altar caved with druid runes and symbols. Upon the altar stood the Cup of Life.

I stood there, trying to catch my breath after my climb and this awesome sight.

"Beautiful, isn't it, my dear?" Alex James asked. He strolled out casually from behind the yew tree. I took a step back. "Don't worry. Your friends will be here soon and then the party will be complete."

He went to the altar and began arranging implements on it – a knife, a small branch of the tree, a lighted candle, a bowl of water and a handful of dirt.

From separate openings across the chamber, Colin and Owen emerged, wincing from the sudden brightness and looking confused and wary. Alex did not even react. He seemed to have been expecting all of us; he must have been the one guiding our way and picking our path through the mountain.

"Merlin, Gwaine," he greeted. "How nice of you to join us."

"Mordred," Colin greeted back grimly. "It's been a while."

"It certainly has," Alex said. "And this is where it all ends."

"Why are you doing this?" Colin asked. "Why destroy?"

"Need you ask why?" Alex said. "Because this world deserves it. It needs it. This is a degenerate age. We all know that. We have seen the deterioration of the human race. Pollution, economic crisis, extreme poverty existing alongside vulgar riches, hunger and gluttony, selfishness and holocaust. This world is on the brink of collapse already. What it needs is some controlled demolition and someone to steady the tiller after it happens."

"And you thought that person could be you?" Colin challenged. Next to him, I saw Owen gesturing to me, telling me to get back into the comparative safety of the tunnel. For once, I decided I should heed his advice and I slowly retreated so I was not in the open.

"Why not me?" Alex asked. "I can bring this world back to a simpler era. Magic can rise again and nature takes its course."

"You're wrong. Nature has taken its course," Colin said. He took several steps forward, clearly setting himself up as the challenger in this fight. "This is what happened. This is what was meant to happen. There's no going back. You cannot teach them by destroying. This is not the natural order."

"I can make it so!" Alex exclaimed. "I can change things back and take back what is mine and make it better." He looked at his wristwatch. "11.05am. Seven minutes to the solstice and the dawn of a new age."

He turned back to the altar, seized the knife and sliced open his palm with it. He held it out over the Cup, allowing the blood to drip in. He then spread out his arms, like how Colin had done as he prepared to incant a spell.

"I can't let you do this," Colin said.

Alex did not turn around. "And how is the great Merlin going to stop me?" he challenged. He muttered something and the branch, flame, water and dirt on the altar rose into the air, circling the Cup. I felt power fill the chamber.

What happened next could only be described as a wizards' duel, the likes of which are only seen in movies with lots of special effects. Colin intoned something, pushing his palm out towards Alex. The air around rippled and the branches of the yew tree swayed as though in a high wind. The floating materials were knocked out of the air and onto the floor.

Alex himself was not affected for he had turned impossibly quickly and thrust out his own palm, creating what looked like a shield. He and Colin began trading magical blows, but with neither gaining ground. Colin aimed a strike at the altar, which cracked on one side, causing chunks of stone to fly around the chamber.

Alex incanted a long spell and summoned a pillar of fire that spun like a whirlwind. The heat of it caused me to break into a sweat. Colin simply waved his hand and it dissipated before it could cause him any harm. He then retaliated with a lightning strike, which Alex deflected. The bolt hit the yew tree, causing its hoary trunk to burst into flames.

Meanwhile, I saw Owen creep out behind them. When Alex engaged in battle with Colin, he had left the cover of the altar and the tree and left the Cup of Life unattended. I could see him making his way to the Cup, dodging projectiles and weaving around so as to remain unnoticed.

He made it to the remains of the altar where the Cup was still perched. He reached out his hand to touch it but was suddenly hurled backwards where he crashed hard against the rock wall.

"Owen!" I exclaimed. I broke cover and ran to him. I knelt by his side and helped him sit up. He was conscious and mostly unhurt but was winded and shocked. I did not understand what had happened. Alex was still busy with Colin. He could not have dealt that blow.

"It's spelled," Owen gasped, coughing as he spoke. "An immortal can't touch it."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"I sensed it when I approached the Cup," he said.

I stood and resolutely faced the Cup. "I'm not immortal. I can touch it," I said. "It needs to be emptied, right? So Alex can become mortal again?"

"Danae, don't," Owen said urgently, grabbing my ankle. "I might be wrong. It could kill you."

"Colin needs him to be mortal so he can be killed and stop him from destroying the world," I said. I felt like how Harry Potter must have felt when he faced Voldemort. I shook Owen off me and stepped forward. I had that same feeling as in the British Museum vaults – the Cup was calling me. I knew I could touch it without harm.

And touch it I did. I reached the altar unchallenged and wrapped my hand around the stem of the goblet. It was warm and tingled in my hand.

Alex seemed to realise when I touched it for he turned away from Colin, one hand pointed in my direction. Colin too had his eyes on me.

Time seemed to slow down in the next few seconds. Sunlight flooded in from the opening high in the wall and the beam bathed the Cup in light. It was 11.12am – the solstice. I firmly gripped the Cup. I saw Alex with his mouth open as though shouting something but I heard nothing. I tipped the Cup over and blood began to drip out and the spell broke.

Things went back to its normal speed following this. Colin shouted a spell aimed at Alex. Blue light emanated from his hands and hit Alex. He began to shake and, despite the blinding light that surrounded him, looked like he was ageing extremely fast – a thousand years crammed into those few seconds, and he crumbled into dust. When he did so, the whole place began shaking as though an earthquake had struck. Owen grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back, causing both of us to fall onto the floor. The spell Alex threw at me hit the wall behind us, cracking the rock wall and causing chunks the ceiling to start collapsing in a cloud of dust, wood and stone.

"We've got to get out of here!" Owen shouted over the noise of the falling rocks.

Colin hesitated, looking at the Cup. He seemed torn between getting to safety and saving this artefact that meant so much to him.

Unfortunately, I did not see what he chose. At that moment, more rocks fell and one hit me hard on the head and I fell unconscious.


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

I woke up in my bedroom. What was I doing? Had I lain down for a nap then fell asleep? Looking over to my bedside clock, I saw that it was already 5pm on Dec 22. Could I have really slept the day away? I felt extremely refreshed. I heard my neighbours walking down the corridor outside and heard people shouting at each other downstairs, as usual.

Someone knocked on the front door and called me loudly. It was my best mate Emily – a fellow temp I had met on a job. I shouted back that I would be there in a minute. I jumped out of bed and dressed quickly, pulling on a tshirt and shorts with ease.

As I walked out of my bedroom, I was hit with a sudden feeling that something was very wrong. But I could not pinpoint what it was exactly. I looked around my flat; everything was as it should be. My sitting room was just as messy as normal, piles of my junk all correct and accounted for. I did not think I had forgotten to go to work – a quick check of the calendar on my phone revealed that I had just gotten off a job yesterday anyway and was jobless again. The funny thing was, I suddenly could not remember what job it was I had just finished.

Emily knocked again impatiently. "Danae! Hurry up in there, will you? It's bloody freezing out here."

"All right, don't get your knickers in a twist," I told her as I opened the door.

She rushed in, bringing a gust of cold air in with her. She slung her coat over the back of the sofa and settled herself down. "Can you imagine what that boss of mine just said? He said it's only out of the goodness of his heart that I'm there working for him. Else I'd be out on the street and on the dole like any old tramp. Like he was doing me a big favour by hiring me!" she ranted.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, feeling out of the loop.

"Liquid Design? I told you I'm doing a job there, working in the shop," Emily informed me. I nodded like I knew what she was talking about, sensing that she might take offence if I did not. "Anyway, so I told him I don't need his bloody money and quit on the spot. Nobody talks to me like that." She jabbed at the air with her finger to make the point. "You got any booze? I need a good drink, I'm so angry."

I went to the kitchen and looked in my refrigerator. "Nope, only Coke," I called.

"Give it here then," she said. I brought her a can and sat down beside her. She opened the can and took a huge swig. "Do you want some?" she offered. I accepted and took a sip. "Anyway, enough about me. How about you? You on a job?"

"No, not at the moment," I said.

"Oh no. How long has it been?" she asked in concern. We both knew that the longer we were out of a job, the deeper in trouble we were.

"It's not like that," I assured her. "I just got off one yesterday."

"That's good then. How was it?"

I hesitated. "Thing is, Em… I can't remember a thing. I had to look at my phone a minute ago just to remember that I had been on a job at all."

"Are you drunk? Hungover?" Emily demanded. "Were you at Trent's mad doomsday party yesterday? I was there and had a massive hangover this morning. Probably why I was so short with my boss today. I knew he should've been more careful who he let use his bong. What did he let you smoke?"

Trent was a mutual friend of practically everyone and was known for throwing extremely wild parties that went on through the night and included everything you could ever ask for – booze, drugs, sex, music, dance etc. I had been to a few of his parties but had never stayed long enough to get drunk or stoned.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't even remember being there."

"It must have definitely been one hell of a party," Emily joked. She put her hand on my forehead. "Nope, you're not sick. Are you ok? It's not like you to have memory problems like this."

"I don't know. Maybe I was at Trent's party and smoked something weird," I said. "Maybe whatever it was is still making my brain fuzzy."

Emily got up and pulled me to my feet. "Get your coat, we're going out."

"Where are we going?" I asked, going to my bedroom to get my coat and pulling it on.

"Nowhere. Just down to the pub. You look like you need some good food and drink to clear your head," Emily announced.

The air was cold outside but it perked me up instantly. We did not go to the pub but went to the nearest café where we ordered strong coffee, pork pies, hard-boiled eggs and chips. The food certainly went a long way in warming and filling me up. But it did nothing to jog my memory of what happened in the last three months.

The café's TV was turned on to the news. More reports on the collapse of the nuclear treaty and how the media had dug up the name of the man responsible for the brokering of the pact – Alex James. The newscaster was saying that the tycoon who had built up the international conglomerate Eceline, from which spawned numerous subsidiaries and had a finger in practically every pie there was, had not been seen in days and was officially thought of as missing. There was talk that he had done a runner and gone to ground after his work fell apart and conspiracy theories abounded that he had known all along that the nuclear dumpsite would have never worked.

"Amazing isn't it?" Emily commented, her eyes glued to the TV as a picture of Alex James appeared on screen. It was a huge scandal and she was always up to a scandal. "You'd never think he was a bad person."

"I heard it said, there is no such thing as bad people. There are only good reporters," I added.

"I'm not even going to pretend I understand that," Emily said.

"Have we ever met that guy?" I asked.

"Alex James? No. I'm sure you'd have told me if you did," Emily said. I kept staring at the picture. I felt déjà vu. I was sure I had never seen him before, and Emily confirmed it, but he felt familiar. I could not put my finger on why.

Emily eventually gave up trying to figure out why I seemed to be losing my memory. We parted ways at the café and I went back to my flat. It was much colder now and felt like it might snow. I pulled my coat closer to me and wrapped my arms around myself to try and stay warm.

As I got back to my flat, that feeling that I was forgetting something important came over me again, so strongly that I had to sit down and force myself to have a really good think. It frustrated me when nothing came to mind.

I changed out of my heavy clothes and into something more comfortable. I put my iPod into the docking station as I passed and switched it on random. Music filled the flat. I hummed along and went to the kitchen to prepare myself a smoothie.

As I was chopping up strawberries, the iPod played A Thousand Years by Christina Perri and I was overwhelmed with a feeling of emptiness. My heart began to ache, like I was missing something or someone. Tears unexpectedly began to fall, splashing onto my strawberries. All I wanted to do was curl up in bed under the covers and cry my eyes out. But I did not know why.

I went out and sat on the sofa. I drew my legs up and hugged them close to my chest. The emptiness hurt. I closed my eyes and gave in to the feeling, sobbing into my knees like a child. Something flashed across my mind – a man sitting here in the dark, singing along to this song, off-key – then it was gone.

Who was that man? Why did it feel like he was important? Why did trying to think about him hurt? Why couldn't I remember him? The questions filled my mind, making me feel like I might go insane. I cried even harder, punching the cushions with my fist in frustration. I grabbed a cushion, covered my face with it and screamed. I hated feeling like this.

I spent the next three days in utter frustration, snapping at everyone that happened to ring – namely, my agent, Emily and my mother. I still could remember nothing, though my memory seemed fine for everything else. I had not been in an accident that might have accounted for my apparent amnesia, nor had I been drugged (it would have worn off by now). Emily suggested that I had been hypnotised and tried various methods we found on the Internet on breaking hypnotic trances but to no avail.

I had another jolt of memory during that time, literally. I was in the train, just pulling out of Dalston Kingsland Station, when it gave a sudden jerk. Again, a scene flashed into my mind – a semi-naked man, the same man from before, running down the train car. But the memory slipped away.

I tried listening to the Christina Perri song again, hoping it would work again to spark off memories that I could hold on to. But I switched it off after the first few seconds. Listening to it hurt so much that I wanted to lie on the floor and die; listening to it made me feel like my heart was breaking.

Christmas Day came. My whole family had gathered at my parents' house in Ealing where I had grown up. My grandparents, sister, aunts, uncles, cousins, the lot of us. Everyone was cheerful and enjoyed a buffet lunch feast that stretched on far into the afternoon. I was a miserable wreck and lurked in corners, praying that no nosy relative would seek to draw me into a conversation. Seeing my sister's kids having fun opening their presents and my aunt leading a Christmas singsong made me feel even more awful.

I sat at the window seat and watched the traffic pass outside. Darkness was beginning to fall and the streetlights come on. Just then, I noticed a man leaning against a neighbour's low brick wall watching my parents' house. At first glance, I ignored him; there were plenty of people who might be hanging around the neighbourhood, and with so many people in the house, it was highly unlikely he could succeed if he were up to no good.

But upon closer scrutiny, I realised this man was the same one who was in my flashbacks.


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

Even though he was far away and his face was partially in shadow, I was sure it was the same man. I was also sure that he held the key and I had to talk to him somehow. I ran out of the house as quickly as I could without arousing my family's suspicion. I went by a roundabout route so he would not see me coming, afraid that he would disappear and leave me with the unanswered questions.

Since I had grown up here, I knew the neighbourhood well and the routes I could take. I managed to sneak up on him from behind and grabbed his arm. He spun round to face me, his body looking as though he were preparing to attack a mugger. But when he saw me, his stance softened, and he looked weary and sad.

"Who are you?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he answered.

"Yes, it does," I insisted. "I've seen you in my head. It's like I should know you but I don't. It's driving me crazy. So please, just tell me your name. That's all I'm asking."

"I'm sorry, love," he said gently. "I can't tell you. It's better that you don't remember, so you can move on in peace."

"In peace? Try in pieces. I'm literally going crazy trying to understand what's happening to me. You obviously know something. Why can't you just tell me? Why did you come here?" I exclaimed.

"I should never have come, but I had to see you," he said. "I couldn't leave without seeing you one last time." He raised his hand to caress my face. I let him do it, even though he was a stranger and I did not know what he was talking about. It felt right. Another memory flashed in my mind – he and I in a room with white walls.

I felt my throat start to tighten as anxiety and panic washed over me. I was not afraid of him; I was afraid that he was going to leave me. Afraid I would have to go live the rest of my life with this hole in my heart and memory. I grabbed at his arms, unable to speak as the cold night air cut my lungs. I began shaking and my knees felt weak.

"Danae, what's wrong?" he asked. There was also fear in his voice. How did he know my name?

I collapsed onto the snowy ground and he squatted beside me, concern etched over his features. "Who are you?" I asked again urgently, struggling to speak through my panic attack.

He held my face in his hands, his brown eyes searching and looking deep into mine. I wondered what he could see in them. His expression changed into one of regretful horror. He pulled me into a hug, holding me tightly against him. "Oh Danae, I'm so sorry. I should never have let Colin to do this to you. This is all so wrong," he said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't worry about anything, love," he said. "I'm going to fix this. You're going to be ok. I swear."

He got up and looked like he was leaving. "Wait," I grabbed at him again. "I don't understand. What are you going to fix? What's going on?"

He knelt beside me again. "My name's Owen. I'm the man who loves you so very much," he said. "You've been through a lot in these last few days, but I promise it'll all be ok. You don't have to feel so lost anymore." What he was saying resonated with me, even though it sounded like nonsense. He kissed me on the forehead. "I've got to go now, but I'll meet you back at your flat tonight." I suppose my expression betrayed my fear that he would go and never return for he added: "Danae, I swear I will come back for you. I won't leave you alone anymore." He hugged me tightly again. "Look at you, out here without even your coat on. You'll catch your death. You better go back in," he said, and then he was gone.

I returned to my parents' house in a bit of a daze. My questions still remained unanswered but at least I had extracted a promise that they would be. I could not wait for the Christmas party to end.

It did not wind down until after a leisurely dinner, in which time seemed to tick by with an eternity in between seconds. After the pudding, I helped to do the washing up, doing the dishes so fast that my sister asked if I was high. I felt free to leave once one of my uncles decided to call it a night.

I hurried back to my flat. I suppose half of me hoped to find that man, Owen, standing outside waiting, but there was no one. I let myself in and washed up, feeling disappointed and a little hurt.

At around 10pm, there was a knock on my door and I ran to open it. Outside stood Owen and a tall, thin, unsmiling man. The sensation of déjà vu was strong. "Hello again, love," Owen said. "This is Colin. May we come in?"

"Of course," I said, and stood aside to let them enter. They did not sit but stood around in the sitting room. The other man looked like he had been coerced into this and barely looked at me.

Owen stood to the side. "Well, get on with it, Col," he ordered.

The man named Colin sighed heavily and approached me. I backed away. He turned and looked at Owen, his expression saying "I told you so".

"Danae, trust me. Colin's not going to hurt you," Owen said to me.

"What's he going to do?" I asked.

Owen looked at Colin, an unspoken conversation happening between the two men in the looks they exchanged. Colin sighed again. "I put a memory spell on you to make you forget," Colin admitted. "And now, I'm here to lift it."

"What kind of memory spell? What did you want me to forget? Why did you want me to forget?" I asked.

"Are you going to let me lift the spell or not?" Colin asked exasperatedly. "I can't explain. It's easier if you just remember it all."

I looked at Owen for assurance and he nodded. "Ok, do it," I said nervously.

Colin came up to me. "Close your eyes and relax," he instructed. "This won't hurt… much." He put his hands on either side of my head and muttered something. It unleashed the floodgates of memory and everything came surging back. The weight of these memories caused me to stagger. Owen caught me and sat me down on the sofa. I grabbed him again, needing something to steady myself. I remembered everything – who Alex James was, my part in destroying the nuclear treaty, Loch Moy, Schiehallion, and most of all, who Owen was.

Owen touched my face, smiling as he did so. He knew that I remembered now, and I knew what he was to me and I to him. "You're back," he said happily. I too felt like I was whole again and I kissed him.

Then I turned to Colin. "Why did you make me forget?" I asked.

"Our job here was done," Colin said. "It was time for us to move on again. We don't know what the next step is but it didn't seem to me that you could play any large role in it. It was easier to have you forget us."

"But…?" I prompted.

"Bleeding heart here insisted I let you remember," Colin said, indicating Owen. "He asked as a favour from a friend. He didn't want to let you go."

I loved Owen more than ever for that. I took his hand and squeezed it to silently thank him. "So, what happens now?" I asked.

"We've got a few choices," Colin said. "I've already told Owen but I guess you should know them too. Basically, after the solstice yesterday, the power that Alex was trying to harness came to me instead, since I had killed him and became a lightning rod for it all. It's enough to break the immortality curse if I want to.

"I think I can make several things happen. One, I lift the curse and we die immediately, since we are no longer immortal. Two, I lift the curse and we die a mortal death after living out the rest of our span of years. Three, status quo. Four, I can make you immortal."

That last choice stunned me. "Me immortal?"

"I don't recommend it," Colin quickly added. "And I would prefer not to exercise that choice."

Owen had already talked to me once about this, and he too had listed out similar choices. But at that time, he had not made a decision, saying it was just speculation and not believing he could actually find himself in this situation.

"You said you two have already talked about this," I clarified. "What's your decision?"

Owen spoke first: "I've taken the second choice. To have a mortal life and mortal death afterwards."

"Hang on," I said, noticing something in his choice of words. "You've 'taken' the choice? You mean it's already done?"

"Yes," Owen said. "I'm mortal now. I told Colin to do it just now, after I saw you in Ealing. I realised that I wanted this chance to be with you, and share one lifetime with you. That is, if you'll have me."

My jaw dropped open. "Is that a proposal?" I asked.

"Maybe. Do you want it to be?" he teased.

I gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. Then I kissed him. "I accept," I said.

Owen kissed me back and hugged me tightly again. We were both so wrapped up in each other that I did not notice when Colin, smiling now, quietly opened my front door and slipped out.

* * *

**Wait! Don't leave yet! We have one last chapter coming tomorrow!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Hi everyone! Well, we've come to the end of the story. I hope you all have enjoyed the adventure. Thanks to all those who reviewed and favourited, especially Linnea.E, Khante, Ash9, Define X, Ohka Breynekai, Suni-Dlight, duchess123, whatswiththemustache, Sarah Jakcson-The Other. I really appreciate you guys sticking around and reading this story of mine. :D *hugs all round***

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

Owen and I got married in June. He was every bit the excited and joyous groom. Finally, in his long existence, he could buy a house, settle down with someone he loved and not have to worry about outliving me and having to pick up the pieces and move on. Finally, he had one life to give to me and he had a future to look forward to. I had never seen him so happy.

The only thing that marred our wedding was the conspicuous absence of Owen's best friend Colin. I did not know what choice he had made – if he lifted the immortality curse on himself or not. But he had kept in touch with the occasional few lines in postcards to me and very long letters to Owen, sent from various places around the world, so I knew he was still alive and well. We had mailed our wedding invitation to his last known address. I did not know if he had even received it.

"Don't worry about it," Owen said. "It won't be the first time he's missed my wedding."

But even though he joked about it, I could see that it hurt him that Colin was not there for this one wedding that mattered.

We settled down into normal life. Owen carried on the investigative business, doing work solving white-collar crimes. I kept on temping but helped him whenever he needed another set of hands.

Of course, we fought on occasion. One of our worst fights ended up with both of us shouting at each other for half an hour, then he stormed to our bedroom and slammed the door shut. I was taken aback by his rage. I stared hard at the shut door and then decided I was too much of a chicken to face him again that night. I made up a bed for myself on the sofa.

I was not sure how long had passed since I fell asleep there but I woke up in the middle of the night to feel myself being jolted and moved. It was dark but I saw that it was Owen carrying me up from the sofa and into our room. He did not notice that I was awake. I waited until he had gently laid me down on the bed before I made a sound.

"Danny? Are you awake?" Owen whispered kneeling by the side of the bed to be at my eye level.

"Yeah," I answered. He stroked my head then stood and went over to his side and got into bed. I turned over so we were facing each other. "I thought you were mad at me," I whispered.

"I am," Owen said, reaching out to brush away a stray lock of hair that fell over my face. "But I also don't want you to spend the night on the sofa."

"I love you," I told him.

"I know," he replied. "Go to sleep, love," he ordered, turning over to the other side and putting his back to me. It took a while before we both could behave normally towards one another again.

A year later, Owen received a note in the mail bearing Colin's familiar handwriting. He showed it to me. Colin wrote: "My dear Gwaine, I have done as you asked and travelled and tried to live life to the fullest. It has been an immensely enjoyable experience and I thank you for pushing me to try. But as I have told you before, I found that walking down the streets brought back more memories of times gone by than hope for the future. I have considered very carefully and I feel that I must follow my heart. I have seen enough of this world. But I hope to see you one more time, my dear friend. Meet me in Ealdor. I'll wait for you."

It was signed off as Merlin.

"Where's Ealdor?" I asked. "I've never heard of it."

Owen folded up the note and tucked it away in his pocket. "It's a field in north Wales now. It's the village where Merlin was born. It's also Arthur's resting place."

That was a shock. "Wait, I thought Arthur was brought to Avalon, there to be healed and await his return," I pointed out.

"You've been reading too many of the legends, love," Owen chuckled. "There was no such thing. Arthur died at Camlann and was buried in Ealdor. I was there."

"I don't believe you. How did the great King Arthur end up buried in a field in north Wales?"

"The political situation back then was very iffy," Owen explained. "And the legend had already somehow spread about the Avalon thing. We couldn't give Arthur a proper ceremony that befits a king. There would have been a fight and his body would have been desecrated. So we picked Ealdor. Arthur had spent some time there in times of trouble and Merlin's mother – whom he looked up to, I believe, almost as his own mother – was also buried there. We thought it would be nice to lay him to rest at a place where he felt most like he had a real family."

So we travelled to Ealdor. As Owen said, it was just another field in a remote part of Wales. We had to leave the main road and hike cross-country for a while before Owen declared that we had reached the correct spot.

The sun had been up for a few hours already but there was still a bit of mist in the air. Colin was already there waiting for us. He grinned in a friendly manner when he saw me but it was for Owen that he reserved his warmest smile and hug. "I'm glad you're here, Gwaine," he said.

"Merlin, don't do it," Owen said.

"I'm sorry, Gwaine," Colin said. "This is the right thing for me. I hope you understand."

Tears brimmed in Owen's eyes but did not spill over. "I never thought one day I might wake up to a world where you weren't in it, my friend," he said.

"Take care of yourself," Colin instructed. Then, looking over Owen's shoulder to me, he said: "Danae, take care of him for me. This one gets into all sorts of scrapes if you don't keep an eye on him. He needs looking after." I nodded in reply. I knew that if I spoke, I might have started to cry.

Colin took a step back into the field. He extended his hand to Owen who grasped it tightly. Owen's expression was grim, like he was using all his self-control to check his emotions. Colin, however, was the most relaxed that I had ever seen him. "Don't worry about me," he said. "I'll be fine. You take your time in this life. But not another thousand years."

"It's been a hell of a journey," Owen said gruffly. "I'm glad you were with me, Merlin."

Colin smiled. Then he said a word in the language I did not understand and his eyes glowed gold. Something changed in the air. Nothing looked different to the eye but the atmosphere was different.

"Merlin!"

I looked out into the field when I heard that shout. There was someone else there emerging from the mist. A well-built man with golden hair, dressed very simply in an old-fashioned white linen shirt and dark trousers. His arm was lifted as though hailing us. "There you are. What took you so long? Well, come on then!" he called.

Owen's jaw dropped open at the sight of the man. Colin's eyes lit up in joyful recognition. I saw a sparkle in his eye and a faint glimmer of the man he used to be before fate set him on his long path through life. He grinned at Owen. "Goodbye, Gwaine," he said. "I'll be seeing you."

He let go of Owen's hand and walked towards the other man. "Sorry, Arthur," he said, pure joy in his voice. "I had to take the slow route."

When he got close enough, Arthur reached out and pulled him into an affectionate hug. Side by side, the two men walked farther into the mist and faded away in the light of the sun.

_O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes!_

_O drooping souls, whose destinies_

_Are fraught with fear and pain,_

_Ye shall be loved again!_

_No one is so accursed by fate,_

_No one so utterly desolate,_

_But some heart, though unknown,_

_Responds unto his own._

_Responds, as if with unseen wings_

_An angel touched its quivering strings;_

_And whispers, in its song,_

_"Where hast thou stayed so long?"_

_(Endymion by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)_

**THE END**


End file.
